


Drink Up

by therentistoodamnhigh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Play, Dick Biting, Dominating Purple Prose Spewing Asshole, Forced Kissing, Implied Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Breakage, Mind Control, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, boot licking, darkiplier is a horrible person, excessively hostile work environment, no bunnies were harmed in the making of this rp, non-consensual shapeshifting, sexy floor tiles, tangential mentions of anti, the host is a horrible person, the jims are good boys you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands, there's "plot" now?? surprise??, there's no actual rape it's just a lot of other non-con shit, you can bet your ass dark tops through this whole damn thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentistoodamnhigh/pseuds/therentistoodamnhigh
Summary: Roleplay-turned-fic between me and two friends. It started off as the OFC getting rekt, and then it turned into the Host getting rekt.We regret absolutely nothing.Also, don't ever let Dark be a vampire, nothing good will come of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so there’s a lot of stuff at play in this one. first: this is like, an au of my fic 8 cups of coffee and 2 hours of sleep that came about after much discussion with some friends. next, the headcanons:
> 
> -this version of the host actually started off as y/n from wkm, and stole one of the bodies for his own  
> -the host’s Narrative abilities (which are like the Author’s) are negated in dark’s presence; Narrative as opposed to regular speech is indicated by brackets: [ ]  
> -this version of the host is a dickbag that learned nothing from the events of danger in fiction  
> -dark’s body is cold, but his mouth is hot  
> -dark speaks with emphasis/command/influence on bolded words
> 
> hit me up at silverpracticality.tumblr.com for more stuff about my ego fics (i played dark in this one)  
> hit up the friendo who played host over at akatriel-rowanborn.tumblr.com for thoughts on her blind boyo  
> friendo who played grace wanted to remain anonymous

 Dark had called the Host’s latest ~~victim~~ assistant, by the name of Grace, to his office to discuss some things, but the Host had insisted on coming along, not trusting Dark alone with her one bit. Grace had expressed interest in learning a few things from Dark, but had worded it quite unfortunately, which had led to Dark bearing down on her with an absolutely predatory grin at the moment.

“It would be an absolute **pleasure** for me to do so,” Dark practically purred. “Now where should we start...”

Grace looked startled. “That is definitely not what I said okay-”

The Host frowned. “I would prefer if you didn't, Dark...”

“And what do you have against my methods?” Dark asked.

Grace attempted to sidle away while they argued, but Dark casually grabbed her arm so she couldn’t get escape.

“Nothing, except when you try to take what isn't _yours_ ,” the Host snapped.

“I don't recall you making a **claim** on this one.”

“Well crap,” Grace remarked idly.

 “I can _fix_ that if you'd back _off_ ,” the Host warned.

Grace tugged experimentally at her arm in case Dark’s grip was not firm.

The grip held firm, and Dark dragged her closer so he could drape an arm around her waist. “Well in that case, I can take her under **my** wing, thank you very much.”

 “And do what, exactly? Teach her to put her make up on in the dark, like you?” The Host ground his teeth, flexing his hands as if wanting to wrap them around Dark's throat.

“As if you could do any better at that, you blind bastard.”

Grace looked uncertain, but grateful they were focusing on each other instead of her.

The Host reached out to grip Grace's free arm, still glaring blindly into Dark's face, pressing so close that Grace was pinned between them.

“Step away from my human.”

 “...this isn’t very comfortable, guys,” Grace said mildly.

 “Shut _up._ ” The Host growled to both of them at once, suddenly pressing a bruising kiss to Grace's mouth, before ripping away and continuing as if nothing had happened, “You already have a new play thing. This one is _mine._ ”

Grace made a stifled yelp.

Dark's grip on Grace tightened in shock and he growled, “I will not allow you to simply **have** her. You're far more liable to torture her to insanity with your damned stories. At least with me she'll retain at least **some** measure of self.”

“We could all just go watch Hulu or something?” Grace suggested. “I bet you’d like Princess Tutu... I think everyone would like Princess Tutu if they tried it, honestly.”

“Oh, yes. Like you give a flying fuck, you manipulative bag of roast dickmeat.” The Host very nearly snarled, fangs gleaming.

“It doesn’t have to be Princess Tutu,” Grace tried. “Are you guys caught up on Stranger Things?”

“Actually, I haven't started the second season. And _shush_ ,” Host said to Grace distractedly.

“Just because you spend the tiny shard of functioning brain power you possess on clever insults doesn't mean you're somehow better than me. And you know what? I could go for a **warm drink** right now.” Dark bent down and bit shallowly into Grace's neck, and glared up at the Host knowing that he could see him anyway.

Grace let out a small yelp. “Ffff- ah-” she vocalized. Ironically enough, Host was making it impossible to squirm away from Dark at all.

Dark removed himself from Grace's neck after a couple moments. He licked the wounds once and stood up straight. “It's cute how you have to **make** people do things you want them to do, whereas I can simply convince them otherwise.”

 “Says the one who just dragged a person over and bit them,” the Host snarked.

 “...can let me go anytime, then,” Grace mumbled. She tugged on their grip some more. I’m gonna get blood all on my shirt.”

The Host wrapped his hands around both of Grace's wrists. “Why don't you go play with your tamagotchis and fuck right off?”

Dark tilted his head and adjusted his grip on Grace so that both arms were wrapped around her middle. He looked directly at the Host's bandages. “No.”

“Fine, then enjoy the show.” Releasing Grace's wrists, Host reached up to cup her face, tilting it up to press his mouth to hers more gently this time. He eased the lips open to drag one between his teeth, fangs just barely nicking the flesh as he suckled on it.

Dark narrowed his eyes and made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. He bent his head back down to Grace's throat and dug his fangs into the holes he just made and hummed a deep, rumbling noise as he drank from the slight blood flow.

Grace tried to lift a finally-freed hand to her neck but finds Dark in the way; she could only whimper into the Host’s mouth.

The Host swallowed the whimper with a pleased growl of his own. Tilting his head, he slid away from her lips, across her jaw, and behind her ear. His breath slipped over her skin, warm and possessive. It dragged down as he began to nip at the side of the throat, drawing little bits of skin between his teeth.

Grace’s hand found something soft and dangling, maybe Dark’s tie, and she grabbed on as much for an anchor as anything else.

Dark removed his fangs and licked over the puncture wounds, sucking at them gently. He caught Grace's hand in his own and pressed it against her shoulder. His low hum turned briefly into a growl and then dropped off as he sighed.

Grace’s breathing came heavy now and her face reddened.

Host growled, idly, dragging his fangs along Grace's throat, and back to her ear. “He's lying to you. You know full well how cruel I am, but he makes me look _kind_ , Grace.”

“Wha-?” Grace asked, dazed.

Dark felt Grace tense up. He made a shushing noise into her neck and rumbled quietly, “Hush darling, you're safe **right here**.”

Grace didn’t feel safe, and she kept straining uselessly against the confining hands and bodies.

The Host mirrored the shushing sound without quite meaning to, gloved hand cradling Grace's cheek, leather covered thumb making gentle circles just under the corner of the eye. “Just relax, and it'll all be over soon.”

Dark dragged his nose up the line of Grace's throat and nuzzled into the hair at her ear. After a moment of this, he began to gently nibble at Grace's earlobe. “Yes, my dear, just **relax**.” His thumb stroked the hand holding his tie gently.

“I... I don’t...” The command hit Grace hard, and the tie slide through her failing grip as her arm fell back to her side.

The Host slid both hands lower, fingers wrapping around Grace's thighs, and dragged them up to wrap around his waist, fingers rubbing the undersides hungrily.

Dark pressed closer still, supporting Grace with one arm around her torso and through the sheer pressure pinning Grace between them. He used his newly freed hand to turn Grace's head towards him and he pressed a firm, heated kiss to her lips.

Grace seemed like she might be wanting to tense up again as her assailants lifted her, but only managed to shiver noticeably.

Lips still trailing up and down Grace's neck, the Host glared sightlessly at Dark kissing his Subject. Taking advantage of her position, he reached out one hand to grip Dark's shoulder, the other still holding Grace's leg, slowly starting to grind his hips into Grace, over and over.

It was so strange and wrong how unconcerned Grace found herself with what the Host was doing to her now; she whined and keened and tried to line up enough coherent thought to ask what was happening when next her mouth wasn’t occupied.

With Grace's head being turned into Dark's kiss, it was becoming harder for him to ignore the tantalizing scent just under her skin. The next growl the Host made was half hunger as well as annoyance. His bites were getting sharper, tongue rasping along the taut skin of Grace's twisted throat. His hips continued to rock forward in time to the little whines she made, his gloved hand sliding up her thigh, thumb dipping closer to her core with each thrust.

Dark released Grace's mouth and gripped the underside of her thigh. “Let's get ourselves situated somewhere a little more **comfortable** , hmm?” He began moving backwards towards the nearest unoccupied couch and sat down with Grace in his lap, spreading his legs wide to ensure that Grace's legs were spread wide as well.

Still holding Dark's shoulder and Grace's thigh, Host rumbled a hungry groan as Grace was pulled away, the sound almost as echoing as his Narrative. Following after, he bent down over the seated pair, moving the hand on Dark's shoulder to the couch back, his other hand sliding even further into Grace's spread legs. Blindly, his Narrative unable to fend off Dark's Aura at this close proximity, he leaned a knee in between her splayed legs, voraciously bending back to the throat that so wonderfully called him.

“I, I don't-” Grace nearly fell during that little maneuver, but she’d been told to **relax** and couldn't even be properly startled. She tried to squirm away from Host's questing hand, but that only pressed her further into Dark without actually getting her anywhere. “Please.”

Dark licked and nipped a little more aggressively at Grace's neck and spoke in between nibbles, his voice a low, pleased hum. “Please what, my dear? What would you like? I can give you **anything**.”

Grace noticed her face was wet. _When did that happen?_ “Lemme go...”

The salty warmth of tears sliding across Grace's jaw and throat made the Host almost purr in delight. What did he care if she wanted to be let go? Settling more of his weight onto his knee, he was able to release the couch back, instead digging his fingers into the nape of her neck, dragging her into a punishing kiss. This time his fangs scraped deep enough cuts on the lips to bleed, and he plunged his tongue past her teeth to enjoy the flavor. Even his annoyance with Dark was beginning to fade under the simple pleasure of toying with a victim.

Grace had never been the hugest fan of tongue-kissing under the best of circumstances, and this was not the best. Even in this daze- especially in this daze, since clearer thoughts might have worried about consequences- she recognized that something squishy was in her mouth that shouldn't be there, and she chomped on it.

Something gave way. The bloody taste in her mouth intensified, and with it came an absurd and incongruous sense of bliss. She’d been whimpering and whining through this whole thing, but now, with her first taste of the Host's blood, she _moaned_.

Dark ran his hands down Grace's sides and then over her thighs and firmly squeezed the insides of her thighs. He ran his hands back up to her hips and let his hands settle there, squeezing occasionally. “Oh, you poor dear. I don't think Host is especially inclined to let you go now. Just let him satiate himself and we'll let you go, alright?” Dark dug his fangs back into the puncture wounds, drinking a little more.

At the moan, the Host grinned, wicked and playful. Oh, the little thing was a biter? That was fun to know. Bending his neck slightly to force her own back into an arch, he slowed the movement of his bleeding tongue, instead letting it bubble freely down her throat. Hand finally releasing her thigh, he pulled away from the kiss just long enough to tug the glove off, finger by finger, dropping it into her lap. For a moment, a very different memory of bloody hands flickered through his mind, but the Host pushed it back. Instead, he pressed the pads of his middle and pointer fingers onto the sharpened tips of his lower canines until blood welled up.

With that, he tilted his head, smiling, a trickle of his own blood at the corner of his mouth, as he inserted both fingers slowly into Grace's mouth, gently painting her lips with the intoxicating dose.

“No no no-” Now Grace keened because it was being taken AWAY, tried to follow after the Host though she didn't get far from within Dark's grip. Her eyes followed those bloody fingers like there was nothing else in the world.

Dark laughed lowly, darkly, at Grace's moan and her subsequent needy keen. “Oh, you're so **eager**. I'm glad you've changed your mind about the proceedings.” He emphasized his words with a firm squeeze to Grace's hips.

“You sound so upset. Do you need something, Grace?” The Host drew his fingers down her chin, leaving twin bloody stripes. His knee pressed deeper between her legs as she tried to lean forward, aiding to block forward movement just as much as Dark's restraining hands. “Do speak up, now...”

“You _know_ what I need-!” It was beginning to dawn on Grace that she'd done a very stupid thing, and that she couldn't even blame her captors for this one, and she was kind of angry about that. There was almost certainly nothing even slightly imposing about her anger, spread out and pinned the way she was, her voice more whiny than anything else even to her own ears.

“Now, now. I don't even think _Dark_ is a mind reader... Be more specific.” His smile was thin and hungry as a shark's, as he started to slowly pull the fingers away from her face, taunting her with what she so obviously wanted.

“Use your **words** , my dear. How do you expect us to know what you want otherwise?” Dark teased.

“Fucking _assholes_!” Grace wasn't **quite** ready to admit to it just yet, it seemed.

The Host snorted. “Not today, but maybe Kinkiplier can help you with that particular need, if you ask him nicely.”

Dark chuckled at the wordplay. “As much as I insult you, you **do** occasionally have your moments, Host. Now as for **you** my dear....” Dark brought one hand up to his mouth and pricked the first two fingers on his fangs so that they bled profusely. He gently pressed the bleeding fingertips to Grace's lower lip, so that the blood trickled down her lower front teeth. “Host here may be cruel in his teasing, but at least I know when to show a little **mercy**.”

It wasn’t what Grace wanted- at least not at first. There wasn’t enough time to protest between seeing what Dark intended to do and the taste of his blood, and _that_ of course had her moaning again, closing her lips around the fingers and starting to suck.

Dark hummed and it was very nearly a low groan with how much voice was behind it, and idly rubbed his fingers against Grace's tongue. His other hand moved from its place at her hip and rubbed gently up and down over her stomach. He placed his mouth right next to her ear and breathed in low, pleased rumble, “What a **good pet** you are. You like that, don't you?”

At the scent of the other ego's blood, and the repeated moan from Grace, Host gritted his teeth tightly, finally snapping. He was getting tired of Dark playing these dominance games, messing with his Subjects, damnit. Curving his left hand around the back of Grace's neck, he pulled her roughly towards his chest, twisting her so that her spine rested on his front and her front faced Dark, legs once again straddling him.

Did she like it? Grace wasn't at all sure that being a "good pet" wasn't incredibly humiliating, but it was hard to care when- wait, what's happening now-

Dark blinked once as Grace was ripped out of his grasp and his damp, still-bleeding fingers were exposed to the cool air. He scowled at the Host and gripped Grace's thighs just above the knee and pulled them further onto the couch as he closed his legs about the Host's knee. He pricked the fingers of his right hand once more to encourage the flow, leaving the left to massage gently into the flesh of Grace's leg. “Now that was terribly rude, snatching away the human like a selfish little boy who got his toy taken away from him,” he said as he slipped his bleeding fingers once more into Grace's mouth.

Trying to pull his knee out from between Dark's legs was like trying to wrench free of a vice. God have mercy on the poor bastard who left any other body parts between them. Instead, Host wrapped his left hand across Grace's chest, trying to keep her from being completely pulled back, gripping her throat as well. He growled again at the feeling of blood trickling down her throat, reaching his bare right hand out to snatch at Dark's wrist, digging his nails into his wrist warningly. “Selfish?” he hissed. “You're the one who always wants to play with what isn't yours.”

He chuckled and sat up straight, bringing his face closer to the Host and ignoring the stinging in his wrists from the Host's nails. “Well, I'm not going to deny that I'm selfish, this isn't news for either of us. But the way I see it? I run this operation, so therefore **you're mine, too**.” Dark reached up with his left hand and placed it around the nape of the Host's neck. With preternatural strength, he dragged the blind man down for heated, violent kiss with perhaps too much teeth.

Dark's words dug into his ears and nestled in his skull like snakes. Even knowing what he was doing did nothing to help him avoid it. Instead, choked by the nearness of the Aura so that he was truly blind, the Host had no reaction time left when that cold hand dragged him down in a bow, lips crushed under Dark's own. He shivered, barely keeping his grip on Grace, as his hold on Dark shifted from one of warning to an almost desperate clinging to anything in this absolute sightlessness. He thought about twisting away, but then his mind seemed to clamp down on such rebellion. He was... He didn't want to be... How dare he do this... He **belonged to him** , of course... The last rebellious thought left him the moment those teeth split his lips and tongue again, spilling his blood all over again. This time he was the one moaning into Dark's mouth.

Now that Grace wasn't being held quite as still, she could move a bit. All she could think to do, however, was take Dark's fingers deeper into her mouth.

Dark hummed in return, a cold thumb stroking the skin behind the Host's ear. He drank up the spilled blood contentedly, savoring the different flavor of it and the slight high that came with it. He pulls away from the Host's lips for a moment. “What a **good boy** , bending over for me like that. Come here, you sweet, **obedient** thing.” Dark returned to his mouth and bit down on the Host's tongue and sucked on it to catch the blood flow. He could feel Grace take his fingers deeper and rewarded her by rubbing the pads of his fingers on her tongue, and had to fight down a smile. The feeling of total control over the situation is heady, so much so that he shifted forward in his seat, bringing his groin flush with the Host's knee and rolling his hips into it.

As Dark's lips pull back, the Host gave out a shaky whimper, sweat beading on his skin. At Dark's words the shaky breathing evolved into trembling, his entire body eagerly moving into his, mewling questingly into that whiskery, bloodthirsty kiss. The only things keeping him from tumbling bonelessly to the floor were Dark's knees, pinning him in place. The moment they started to slide against his leg though, the taut line of his groin pressing into him, he fumbled his grip on Dark's wrist, pawing blindly at his silent chest, his grip on Grace little more than holding up her head as he let her sag down between them, in Dark's lap. “...Please...” he heard himself murmur into that devilish mouth.

Dark removed his fingers from Grace's mouth as she sagged down, and with one hand maneuvered her so that she was sitting on his right side. He then curled his arm around her and slipped the fingers back into her mouth to keep her from whining too badly. He moved his grip on the Host from his neck to the fabric of his trench coat near his hip, relaxed the hold his legs had on the Host's knee and slid back into the couch, coaxing the Host to straddle his hips. “Please what? You have to be **specific** , my dear boy.”

Still trembling, the Host obediently opened his legs, feeling the cold from Dark's skin, even through his coat, where his hand cupped his hip. His hands shook as he released Grace and Dark's wrist, using them to drag himself forward until he could feel Dark's cold legs sliding along his inner thighs. An instinctive contraction ran through his thighs, clutching Dark's for an instant before relaxing. His brain blearily could read the insult in Dark's toying banter, the same words he'd used on Grace, but the Host found he didn't care. All he wanted, desperately, was to bare his throat to the other man. But speaking was like swimming through molasses, slow and thick.

Dark kissed the Host once more, swiping his tongue along his lips to catch the remaining blood, and then began kissing and nibbling along his jawline. He moved his left hand to the small of the blind man's back and coaxed him flush to his front. He nibbled at the Host's ear and began murmuring quietly, “Oh? It seems I've finally rendered the narrator silent for once. As **delightful** as this is, I can't very well give you what you want if you don't **tell** me.” For emphasis, Dark rolled his hips up into the Host's.

The Host's thighs jostled again, clenching tightly to the rolling hips below them. Sweat was trailing down the back of his neck, settling into his shirt collar. He felt heady, almost drunk, both like his head was floating and his body weighed so much. Dark's hot breath on his ear made him quake. Finally, he began to scratch at the buttons of his trench coat, fumbling to open it and drag it down his arms. Underneath he wore simple black pants and a pale cream, long sleeve shirt. He thought with the coat off he would have cooled off, but the only cool portion of his body was where he pressed against Dark's chest. Panting heavily, he tried to make a coherent statement, tried to give Dark what he wanted. All he could do was tilt his head sideways, baring his neck. “Please. Please...” He swallowed. “...Take...”

Grace writhed against Dark's side a little more, hearing her thoughts so well-articulated.

Dark assisted the Host in taking off the trench coat and smoothed a wide, cold hand down the center of his back. He felt the Host bare his neck for him and he grinned against his heated skin. “Oh, poor thing, are words **too hard** for you? What do you want me to take? I understand how difficult it can be, you pathetic, needy little thing.” He felt Grace writhe next to him and pressed her closer to him to suppress the writhing, careful to stay just this side of making her choke on his fingers.

Words were not the only thing that was hard right now, especially with each movement Dark made under his spread hips. Still trying to get his mouth to do more than moan incoherently, he reached blindly behind him, snatching at Dark's arm and trying to drag it to the buttons of his shirt, as his own fumbling fingers couldn't manage to undo them. Teeth gritted so tightly they ached, he growled between them, ["And Dark took the Host's offered blood."] His head pounded at the attempt to use his powers, and he swayed weakly from side to side, suddenly exhausted from the effort. Silent now, he waited.

Dark grinned in the crook of the Host's neck as his hand was dragged around to the buttons of the Host shirt. He slowly undid the buttons one at a time, painfully slowly. The Host's narration did little in the way of doing anything, merely increased his desire to drink. “ **Good boy.** That wasn't so hard, now was it?” Dark dragged his fangs across his throat and bit down into a pulsing vein there, relishing in the taste and the rush of it. He rolled his hips into the Host's a little harder as he drank, rewarding the Host for his compliance.

The moment the praise washed over him Host sank, his muscles feeling like water. All he could do was remember to breathe, and that only barely, as that hot breath burned a path along his throat. His bared chest revealed the scars from the body's past life all too well, but he was too blissed to care about something he so passionately hid from view, normally. All he cared about was that voice that soothed and demanded dominion, that finally took away the need to narrate... All he needed to do was what it told, for once. Let himself be the one inside the story... He swallowed again just as teeth broke skin and it was as if something drenched his senses with cloying, devouring power. He groaned aloud as Dark's hips moved, riding his every movement, cock so hard it hurt inside the confines of his pants. ["More."] He Narrated painfully. ["He took more."]

Dark silently obliged the Host's Narration and drank more deeply, getting caught up in his own heavy arousal. He groaned deeply and finally withdrew his right hand from Grace's mouth, speeding up the process of unbuttoning the Host's shirt with both hands.

Grace merely relaxed into the couch, riding the high of the equivalent of a food coma.

Dark slid the shirt off the Host's shoulders and down his arms and gathered the material behind the Host's back with one hand, loosely pinning his arms behind him. With his other hand, he dragged it slowly down the side of the blind man's heaving chest, brushing the nipple on the way down.

The Host moved in time to each deep pull of his blood, rocking just as hungrily. He whimpered when his shirt was rolled down his arms, pinning them. It was breakable, but he didn't dare. Not without permission... He was so overly warm, the tightness in his pants becoming truly horrible, but he could only shiver delightedly when those cold fingers graced his skin, hardening the nipple they brushed across effortlessly. He tried to speak, but even the paltry Narrative was little more than a babble of broken pleas to take more, to please, **please** drink deep of what he offered.

Dark brought his other hand up to the base of the Host's neck, pressing the offered flesh even more against his mouth. He generally considered indulging in carnal pleasures beneath him, but in this moment he was finding it difficult to care, what with the heat of the Host's body bearing down on him, his sweet, rich blood draining onto his tongue. With the hand pinning his arms back, he pressed the blind man's hips even more firmly into his own and rocked upward less with the intent to reward the Host and more to chase his own pleasure.

Through all of this, there was still a part of his mind that knew what was happening, that pressed fruitlessly back against the desire to just bow to the other ego's whims. But it was as if it existed purely to know how impossible it was to struggle, to "watch" as every portion of mind and body willingly bent to Dark's will, hips grinding, mouth panting, mind screaming. He should be enraged at this, should be pulling away, not exulting in the feeling of teeth digging into his throat, taking from him. Ruling over him with an idle amusement.

Thighs clenching, wet with sweat and more, he could only wish he dared pull out of the grip long enough to free himself. But no. He was as able to choose his next actions right now as one of his Subjects in complete thrall. Instead, he arched into the bite, rolling his hips in an attempt to please, that ignored part of his mind that raged against its shackles roaring vainly.

Because he was being praised, was being honored to give of himself... He needed to know who he belonged to... “I'm sorry,” he babbled suddenly. “Please forgive me.”

["I'm yours."]

Dark withdrew his fangs from the Host's neck and laughed lowly, blood dripping from his fangs and messily dripping down his lips and chin. “Oh, you're so **well-behaved** , I didn't even have to ask you to say that. You **are** mine, aren't you? All you need is whatever I give you and you'll beg for every inch of it, won't you?” He brought the Host's panting mouth down for bloody, heated hiss, humming contentedly.

The little screaming piece of his mind was drowned in a moan that wracked his chest as he curved into Dark's kiss, feeling his humming rumble down his throat and stroking the corners of his mind toyingly. He couldn't speak anymore. Couldn't think straight. He wanted an answer though, didn't he? And he wanted to please him. He'd been there for him, his memory purred. He'd come back for him... He tried to nod into the kiss, but could only whimper in response. Still, the taste of his own blood was enough to remind him just how hungry he'd been, especially after Dark fed on him. Without thinking, he dared to nip into the exploring tongue that so easily weakened him, suckling experimentally.

Dark jerked at the sudden nip to his tongue, the rhythm of his hips stuttering for a moment. A trickle of blood escaped the wound and a slight haze came over him, but he tugged his tongue from the Host's hungry mouth and the haze passed. He gently pulled on the Host's lower lip with his teeth as he withdrew from his mouth. “Pathetic boy. You're so overwhelmed with hunger and desire you hardly know what do with yourself. How badly do you want to cum, my obedient little thing?” Dark slowed the rolling of his hips to an achingly slow pace.

The Host made a sound between a moan and a growl when Dark pulled away, shaking with both hunger and desire. Part of him still wanted to lunge for Dark's pale, freezing throat, and sink his fangs into the pulse therein. Somewhere in his mind he knew he loathed being denied, but a light tug forward reminded him that he was being held where he belonged. The rest of his mind was solely occupied with the change in Dark's movement beneath him. He strained forward, the noise roiling in his throat leaning more towards a growl as he reclaimed Dark's lips with his own, pleading and demanding all at once.

Dark chuckled into the sudden kiss and then he ran his fingers through the Host's hair, only to grip it tightly and jerked his head back. “Ah ah ah- I didn't **say** you could do that, did I? I was going to give you a treat- and here he harshly rolled his hips up once for emphasis -for being a good boy, but now? I'm starting to reconsider. Is this too much for you, for your mindless animal brain? I ought to just **leave you** with the juice box here if you can't **behave** yourself.” Dark raised a condescending eyebrow at him, despite knowing that the Host was effectively blind this close to him. “Well? Are you going to behave for me? Are you going to **ask** for what you want instead of just taking it like a selfish child?”

 **Leave you...** The Host cringed, the muscles in his arms twitching as he instinctively remembered a wall of glass, a crack spreading like a spiderweb across it... No, no, no. He'd be good. Loyal. Dark had come back for him twice... He needed to prove he deserved that. The Narrative was choked by the Aura and by the fear of being left behind. He almost forgot how to form the words. ["N...no. The H-Host will behhhhave."] He felt like he'd swallowed glass with those last words, but continued, obediently, ["He begs Dark to forrrgive him. He... _I am yours_."]

Dark smiled, and it was awful and wicked and full of teeth. “ **Good boy**. Now, I would like you to tell me how you **want** me, you precious thing. Do you want my **cock**? Or would you be content to get off just **like this**?” He rocked his hips up once for emphasis.

The Host shook with the effort of answering, and the part of his mind that was humiliated had been silenced by the wash of fear of abandonment, then soothed by the return of praise. He wanted so much, and for once could articulate none of it. How could he fail Dark right when he most wanted a verbal answer? “Please...” [" _I will kneel_."]

Dark let go of the Host's hair and patted his cheek. “Good boy, I knew you could do it.” He released the Host's arms and helped him slide the shirt all the way off. He then gripped the blind man about the waist and guided him to his knees between his own splayed legs. With deliberate slowness, Dark undid his belt and the buckle clinked as he unzipped his pants. He pulled his hard cock out from his underwear and then carded his hand through his hair and gently guided his head closer. “Go ahead, you've **earned** a little treat.”

His knees striking the floor and the feeling of Dark's knees under his blindly questing hands were all the Host had to brace himself with in the darkness. Still, he eagerly drew closer to the very person that caused his "sight" to dim, wanting to please... It was awkward at best, and his cheeks flushed hotter as he tried to find the rigid member, pawing haphazardly at Dark's thigh until his gloveless hand finally stroked down the waiting length, cupping under it. Wanting so much to prove himself, he waited to open his mouth, and instead rubbed small circles along the nerve clusters at the base. His own erection remained painfully ignored.

Dark groaned lowly at the stimulation and tugged the Host closer to the head of his dick, close enough that his lips just barely brushed the tip. “You're doing well, but you could be doing **better**.” He placed the fingertips of his other hand on the Host's cheek and delicately pushed the bloodied bandages up his face and off his head. He placed his hand on the side of his head such that his thumb rested on the fragile skin next to the ruined eyes of the Host. He rubbed the skin there gently. “Go on, I'll allow you to **indulge** yourself just this once.”

The Host twitched, whimpering as the bandages were taken away, revealing his ruined sockets. He couldn't see, the cones and reflecting surfaces long since removed, but he knew what he looked like, and felt suddenly far more naked for being seen this way, than in losing his coat, glove and shirt. But the whimper thrummed into a moan as his lips brushed the salty tip of Dark's cock.

His cheeks were wet with both tears and warm, oozing blood now, and he could still feel the sweat pooling along the dips and valleys of his skin. Everything seemed to be doubled to his other senses, touch, taste, hearing. His own groans echoed in his skull like bats trying to escape a closed belfry as he took first the tip, then the shaft into his mouth, tongue and duller teeth scraping along it, slowly. His ears were filled with Dark's words, his taste buds with his salt, his sense of smell overcome by body wash and the same salt. He was drowning in Dark, and he knew it.

He paused just before the tip passed into his throat, trying to avoid gagging. In the meantime, he continued stroking it with his tongue, another growl rolling up his chest and around the shaft.

Dark moaned as the Host took his length, and scratched gently at his scalp for encouragement. In his peripheral vision, he saw his assistant enter the room, exit, and then re-enter and pick up a tiny rabbit in its cage and leave the room again. He chuckled to himself and it stuttered into a moan as the Host's growl made vibrations around his cock. “Ah, it seems one of the new hires is poking her nose in places she ought not to.” Using the thumb next to his eye, Dark swiped up the blood and tears on the Host's cheek and licked it off. “Mmmm, how sweet is your blood, you precious thing.”

The knowledge that others were seeing him like this made that trapped voice scream even more, but did nothing to slow the Host's ministrations along the shaft. Dark's cold thumb along his sensitive cheek made him groan again, pants tight and stained now. Instinctively he bucked his hips slightly, taking more of the shaft into his mouth, into his throat now, teeth scraping along the slight ridge of the veins at the base, tongue dragging especially along the thick, hardened one along the underside. Another growl rolled forth, half stuttering around the head of the cock pressing into his throat as twin hungers begged to be indulged. He began to draw his lips along the base, slowly, so very hungrily, hands gripping Dark's knees like a lifeline.

Dark gave a shuddering sigh at the feel of his length sinking deeper into the Host's throat. “What a **good boy** , you're doing **so well** ,” he managed to say, despite the heavenly vibrations. His hips made slight rocking motions into the other man's mouth, and the hands clutching at his knees heightened his pleasure. He allowed his Aura to creep down to the Host's long-neglected cock, settling thickly around it. To the Host, it would feel as if there was a hand there stroking him and giving him sweet pleasure.

The same Aura that dulled his senses and powers now was heightening his pleasure. Unable to stand it any longer, the Host fumbled one handedly to his crotch, unbuttoning his pants and pulling aside his underpants to free his rigid cock. It brushed the floor, only causing him to rock further, taking Dark deeper each time, teeth scraping tighter as his tongue laved the vein and salt and precum all at once... Bending his head back obediently to give Dark more room to move himself deeper, he gasped through his nose as his gag reflex was ignored, and pushed past multiple times. Instead, he continued moving his lips, sucking, licking, tasting... His choked growls became almost purrs just as he scraped his teeth one last time up the shaft, over the ridge at the base.

A fang just barely nicked the skin.

Not enough to be very noticeable normally... _if_ the Host hadn't been hungry from being fed on previously. Crawling forward, taking as much as he could, he slowly sank his fangs lightly into the rigid flesh, swallowing more than cum now. He moaned around his hold, throat constricting tightly to the head.

Dark’s hips jerked at the sudden prick of pain at the base of his cock and the Aura correspondingly thickened at the Host's now-freed length, and the sensation there shifted from the feeling of a hand to the feeling of a hot, wet mouth - specifically, the Host's own mouth servicing Dark at that moment. Dark moaned again, the sound thick and rumbling as the blind man's throat constricted further around him, the vibrations only adding to his pleasure. He rocked his hips as much as he dared with the fangs sinking into him and - ah, there it was, that ultimate horizon of carnal pleasure drawing closer, coming within reach. He placed his hand at the back of the Host's head, to prevent him from withdrawing as Dark began to move into the pleasure, starting to chase after his orgasm.

The cold hand cupping his sweat drenched hair was both soothing and intoxicating, all at once. The Host panted around the bulging shaft, the rocking motion burying the head deeper into his flexing throat muscles. Swallowing instinctively, he felt blood dribbling down his lips, along with foaming saliva. The feeling of the Aura suddenly shifting to form a hot, constricting tunnel of its own nearly broke him right then, and his shoulders shook as he mewled piteously, trying to take a deeper breath of air.

The irony of the situation was that the Host's pathetic mewling was what got him closer to the edge than anything else. Combined with the sound and the feeling of the Host's throat constricting around him had him thrusting quickly into his throat, and then suddenly he was cumming, hand clenching into the host's hair, hips twitching, making only the barest of grunting noises. He sighed, relaxing back into the couch, and further amped up the Aura around the other man's dick. “I'll allow you to cum, since you've been a **good boy** for me. But you are not permitted to touch yourself; you can cum just like this, can't you? Untouched with only **my Aura** to satisfy your hungry cock.”

The pounding was nearly choking him, filling his throat to the point breathing was near impossible. Then when the warmth started spilling down his throat, he could only arch into the thrusts, hands slipping up to his hips as they rocked forward, fangs slowly retracting. When he slowed, fingers gripping harder, the Host panted, sliding free to catch his breath, leaning into his grip in his hair. Dark's voice rumbled pleasantly above, sending another couple of shivers through him as he nodded mutely, leaving his hands on Dark's hips like a good boy.

The Aura tightened over the Host's length, and Dark leaned forward and dragged the other man's face up to his own using the grip on his hair. With delicate precision, Dark licked up the fluids dripping down the Host's chin and then the blood and tears on his cheeks, lingering at the lash line just shy of entering the socket itself. Looking the Host directly in his ruined sockets, he began to speak. “I will allow you to have the human, since I'm in a charitable mood. I'll leave a little of myself here so you can finish yourself off, you needy little thing.” Here, Dark nudged the base of the Host's cock. He stood up, gently prying the other man's hands off his hips. He stepped away from the Host and tucked himself back into his pants, fixing his appearance so that it looked as if nothing had happened. “Be a good boy and **cum for me** , won't you?” With that, Dark stepped towards the door to the hallway, leaving the Host to his own devices.

A weak keen left the Host’s lips when Dark's tongue dragged up his cheeks, nearing his eye sockets. The sensitive skin there blazed to life as his lips brushed across it, painfully bright.

At the nudge the keen rose in pitch, choking off into a coughing fit once Dark stepped away, releasing him to fall onto all fours. The Aura dragged him into insanity, but he refused to touch... He'd be a good boy... And oh God, it felt wonderful to submit just then, and be rewarded.

Eventually he finished, making even more of a mess on the floor and his pants legs, shoulders shaking as Dark's Aura finally slipped away, allowing his Narrative to return, piece by fractured piece.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Host is pissed after Dark humiliated him and he's going to take it out on Grace. Grace on the other hand does not get paid nearly enough to deal with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we did some more rp? and there's like, 23,000 words of content i'm in the process of editing?? so have this bit my other two friendos did with Grace and the Host while i get that done. (rip me why did i decide to go through with this)
> 
> if anything is confusing, please ask and i'll be happy to explain! ^_^

It took him some time to be able to gather himself back together, stuffing himself back into his pants and jerking his shirt back on so roughly the sleeves tore. He growled, not bothering to button it, as he dragged on his trench coat over it, belting it tightly to hide the stains on his pants legs. The Host was in a rage. The leftover wry amusement of Dark's Aura scattered when he snarled, fangs bared as the Narrative seemed to twist into his inhuman roar. He'd been humiliated again. And now that manipulative bastard was probably laughing over how easily he'd won control. Freed at last from that dominion, the Narrative was trying to regain power, first through "sight" enough to find his glove, which he stuffed in his pocket, before latching onto the discarded Grace Colton like a wolf on a rabbit.

He sneered in contempt, remembering Dark "allowing" him to have what was damn well meant to be his property, and had half a mind to leave the blissed out human right where she was, rather than take his sloppy seconds. But the Narrative was weakened by the Aura enough that it clung to the victim, dragging his mind back towards her, even as he grew all the angrier at the need. Worse yet, he was still so fucking _hungry_ after all this, and didn't that just remind him of his recent humiliation? He spat at the floor, before advancing on the bleary little human. "[Grace Colton awoke knowing she had no chance to flee from what was going to happen. She knows she should never have let Dark **touch** what didn't belong to him, and if she is very lucky, she will be able to beg forgiveness for her grave error.]" Every Narrative laced syllable was growled out as he drew closer, hands clenching dangerously.

And Grace Colton awoke, knowing she had no chance to flee. The terror of her enraged boss made for quite the rude awakening from the combination food coma/sex coma that _his_ boss had left her in, never mind the residual fascination that won't let her look away from the places where he's still bloody. She can really only manage to say one thing- “What's this _‘let’?!_ ”

Hearing even the slightest note of fighting against him was enough to ignite the Host's rage into an inferno. Snapping out his bared hand he struck her directly across the face, snarling, “Yes, " _let_!" You little cringing thing. You should have known better than to even speak to him without my permission, damn it all. He's a fucking _thief_.”

Grace knew talking back had never been a good plan. Bad judgment, trying to reason with him. No point saying she hadn’t actually _been_ talking to Dark, he wouldn’t care. She’d just try not to say anything, since he’d probably just get even madder than he already was. ...and maybe lick her lips a bit in the vague half-conscious hope that the hand he slapped her with had left behind some trace.

At her silence the Host took a breath, gritting his teeth as he recalled Dark's jab that he'd break his Subjects too easily. Forcing his hand back down, he instead growled an exploratory Narration, to see what the little chit was thinking. "[Wisely, Grace didn't fight back, though she knew she couldn't have fended off Dark if she wanted to.]" He hissed a little, then paused as it continued, the snarl becoming a smirk, "[She still was hoping for another taste of the blood that she'd had before.] Oh, do you, now? Is that what you want?”

Grace flushed scarlet- she hadn't even wanted to _think_ about that urge, but of course she couldn't hide it from him. She could never hide anything if he was in a prying mood. She didn't look him in the eye as she spoke, trying not to sound frustrated or give him some excuse. “You _know_ I do, that's how it _works_...”

“Then you also know that I have very little reason to _give_ you what you want, after this mess, don't you?” His hand snapped out just barely missing her face, but for the nick of a claw along her cheek. He licked the blood off, idly. “But I suppose you have been so _horribly_ mistreated already... Maybe I should be _nicer_ to you.”

“P-please...” It came out half without her willing it. Her better judgment was pretty sure that any noises he might make about kindness were only taunts, but that _need_ won’t let her just do nothing.

“You are adorable when you beg. No wonder Dark wanted to play with you.” With that he reached out and gripped both her shoulders, claws digging into the bicep of the one held in the gloveless hand. He ripped her upwards until she was kneeling on the couch cushion. "[Too bad for Grace Colton that the Host doesn't care as much as Dark when someone begs.]" He flung her back down, hard, before adding, "[What he _does_ enjoy, however, is toying with his food, first. So dear little Grace had _better_ run if she wants the Host to be in a _nicer_ mood.]"

Grace winced at the grip, and at the manhandling, but made no attempt to pull back. Partly this was concern about making things worse. Mostly, though, it was that perverse urge to be near him, strong enough that even when he _told_ her to run, she hesitated a long moment. Still. He more than just said it. She turned, eyes wide, to make for the door.

The Host smiled, showing teeth, and allowed Grace a headstart, ambling calmly after, still Narrating. "[Of course, this time, even if she were to go near the Aura, which would stifle the Narrative, the Host can still smell the blood from her wound. She smells delicious, by the way.]" The door swung shut behind him as he entered the hallway, the Narrative lunging before him like a hound on the scent, flooding the walls and ceiling with his power, wherever the little artist ran.

Grace hadn't been planning on looking for Dark- even with the Host this angry, she's not fool enough to think of him as protection. A frisson of something she couldn't name, but which was disturbingly pleasant, nearly made her stumble when he called her scent "delicious", but she kept on. Take corners at a run, never mind that it means he'll hear you- -you know you're not getting away anyway, right?

"[She was a fast runner, he'd give her that. But how long could it last? Already dizzy from bloodloss and worse... Blood _thirst_ of her own. It was all so confusing, wasn't it?]" He sped up a bit now, using his Narration to allow himself to move "sideways" in such a way that the world let him appear just at the end of each hallway she ran down. He loved to put on a show, after all. His claws flexed playfully at his side as he appeared in front of her, again, grinning cruelly.

It was startling the first time Grace rounded a corner to find _him_ already there- but of course he could do that too, if the man _has_ limits Grace had yet to find them. It made the whole exercise even more futile than she’d already known it to be. Even if something in her hadn’t wanted to run after him instead of away, she’d still have known it for a pointless game. But it was the game the Host wanted to play, damn it all, so Grace gasped theatrically and doubled back and went faster and hoped he’d get bored soon.

"[It's so _nice_ to have a compliant Subject, even if she needs to practice her fear response. _Really_ woman.]" But his voice was definitely amused as he sauntered after. "[It must be so very tiring to run like this, though... Grace's legs are twinging now as she goes, but she doesn't dare stop...]"

It hadn’t really been long enough to start hurting, but like hell did that matter in the face of the boss deciding to skip to the wearing-out part. Grace bit back the urge to call him a cheater, accurate though it would have been.

"[At least she's getting wise to what should come out of her mouth. Maybe next time she'll be able to tell Dark to shove his blood where it matches his name.]" At this, he lunged forward, reaching the clawed hand out to slash at her calf.

“Ah!” Grace didn’t manage to turn tail in time to even hope to avoid that. Unfortunately, the pain interfered with her ability to grin and bear the ridiculously unfair... “The _fuck_ , was he going to listen to me any more than you?!”

The Host snarled, dropping all pretenses and running her down, this time catching the ankle of her wounded leg and yanking it back. “Maybe I spoke too soon, Subject _mine_. Maybe you're more a wise _ass_ than I originally thought.”

The outburst was done and she couldn’t change that now. She’d dealt with her boss’ shit before- no amount of groveling over it would make him forgive her. But it was just possible he might get too enraged to be really creative. So she swallowed the whimper of pain and terror as best she could and put on all the bravado she could scrape together. “Someone’s gotta be...”

The Host snarled again, this time dragging Grace back towards him, claws sinking into her ankle. “You know, Ms. Colton, I never cared to Narrate what type of tile we have. How about you get a nice, close look, and describe it, hmm?” For emphasis, he pressed his foot down between her shoulders.

Grace grabbed at a doorjamb but, once he started dragging her, it became clear that he’d just take gouges out of her flesh otherwise and she had to let go. “Just ‘cause you’re too damn lazy doesn’t mean- ah- okay, you know you’re making it hard to get a decent look, right?”

The pressure from his foot eased slightly as he released her ankle, standing up and actually laughing. “Okay, I'll give you points for that one.” Thinking about it, he tilted his head and purred, “Do you want a reward, silly thing?”

Grace didn’t try to lift herself off the floor, because he was _laughing_ and that was very much the opposite of what she’d been hoping for. The mention of reward brought her up short, too. There _was_ something she wanted, a hunger gnawing at her insides, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to not ask for it if she were to look back up at him. “I’d ask for a raise but you never let me out of the building to spend it...”

“Aww, a raise is entirely possible, though.” He bent, reaching down to grasp the back of her shirt collar and haul her up. “Literally, of course.” He didn't let go, holding her up almost like a captured cat.

Also like a captured cat, Grace was intensely and visibly unhappy with her position! “Okay, will you stop making these hideous puns for like a day as the reward?”

“I like to think they are quite lovely puns, really.” He smiled, shaking her a little, before just as suddenly dropping her, again. “This is fun. Shall we continue, or shall I find other ways to make you scream?”

 “They really- eep!” Grace landed rather awkwardly and had to collect herself into a sitting position before she could respond. “Sound like you ate every shitty kids’ joke book and then got nasty reflux. I guess that means you’re not gonna lay off, though.”

“You'd be guessing correctly. [The Host affected a pose not dissimilar to Bim Trimmer on his award show, catching up the front of dear Grace's shirt this time,]" His gloved hand dragged her up and close to his middle, legs still akimbo. "[His voice sounding much like Bim's, suddenly, he said, here's your prize!]" Flicking his thumb into a fang, he half jammed it into her mouth, making the entire scene look very awkward from the view of anyone coming down the hallway, to double the humiliation factor. Why make them suck you off when you can drive them nuttier than the King of the Squirrels in this way?

Grace’s mouth opened to say. Something. Before she could manage even a syllable, though, he’d popped his thumb into her mouth and swamped her in that mind-shattering sensation again and made any vocalization more complex than a needy whimper totally out of the question.

Voice back to normal, the Host chuckled at the whimper, rolling his arm in a reflection of rolling hips to taunt her. “There. That seems to make you happy, doesn't it?” He dragged her even closer to him, so she was pressed to his body as he rubbed his thumb along her tongue, knees to either side of her body. “You prefer it when I'm _nice_ I suppose?”

She did, for all that it made her incredibly suspicious, but actually vocalizing that would require using her tongue for something other than frantically licking at that blood and that was really not going to happen anytime soon. She did manage an “mm-hmm” though, and put her arms around his waist to steady herself despite the awkward position.

“Of course you do. Silly questions get obvious answers.” Continuing the charade, he rubbed his thumb slightly deeper, exchanging the hold on her shirt for one in her colored hair, pressing it closer as he rocked his hips once, still completely clothed. "[The Host always did like playing with his food. He also is having a great time making her play back, the poor thing.]" He laughed again, obviously not meaning poor anything in the slightest.

Dazed though Grace was, she wasn't totally insensible to the fact of being mocked. But what could she do? Only suckle even harder on her tormentor's thumb, hoping to get enough of that intoxicating stuff to stop caring about her degradation.

"[Grace seems to think I will let her forget what I can -and will- do to her, if she can just force herself to ignore it. She doesn't seem to understand that I have no desire to let her do that.]" Instead, he removed the thumb from her suckling lips tilting her head back so her chin was pressed to the front of his hips. “Let's see if you can follow orders without magical _nudging_ poor thing. Look at me, now.”

Grace tried to get up, to follow that hand for _more_ , but her footing was unsteady and it likely wouldn't take much to push her back into place.

“Nonono.” His grip in her hair crushed her in tighter to his front. “No reward if you cannot obey. Look at me, Subject mine.” His voice was a humored growl of sound as he "watched" her scrambling feet and needy little mouth try to catch up to the bloody hand.

Did staring at his hand count? Because Grace couldn't seem to look away from the damn thing. Her attempts to actually reach it were subsiding, though, she was pinned very effectively. Her head was at just the right level to swim with the scents of sweat and something else she preferred not to name.

“Awww, at least you're trying. _Very_ trying, at times... Still.” He loosened his grip slightly, but not before rocking once more for his humor's sake. “You can stand now.” He waggled the bloody hand temptingly above, like a lure, but considering he didn't completely release her, she was still effectively pinned to his front if she wanted to rise. He waited.

Of course she wanted to. _Needed_ to. She couldn't draw back enough to get up in any kind of normal way, but moving against him, using his hips and then his shoulders like the world's smuggest railings, managed to get her to her feet. It was far from dignified, but then neither was staying at crotch level.

As she moved, the Host purred, "[The Host watched Grace rise up, climbing up his body, desperation warring successfully with dignity as the Host slid his grip slowly down her back, to her waist, forcing her to slide against him, feeling his body heat through his coat. He pondered over how best to reward such a fun little distraction.]" Of course, it didn't take much to figure out What to reward her with, but the How. Making every moment as humiliating as possible was the goal, after all. He sucked on his thumb to restart the blood flow, slowly dragging it out of his mouth, before tucking it back into hers just as he bucked his hips mockingly.

Grace was able to burn with shame only for a moment before the bliss exploded in her mind again. Her moan of pleasure, this time, sounded more like a sob.

At this the Host laughed cruelly, pressing a mocking kiss to her brow. It was just too good an image to pass up, so he Narrated it to give him the best "view." "[She couldn't help the reaction she gave, and it was humiliating. At this point, Grace was little more than a toy to be broken at will. Such a good Subject, really. She was imaginative, bright, and clever. All things that would have normally served her well in life, now twisted to be little more than entertainment for monsters... And more than that, _food_ for them as well. Such imagination locked into the Narrative was very nearly _heady_ to the Host, who continued to reward it with slow strokes of his thumb on her tongue. If you could call such cruelty a reward. Still...]" He paused, breathing deeply the scent of sweat from her race down the halls, and another hunger rose to remind him to hurry the hell up. "[Even with all this fun, it was getting harder to ignore that pulse in her throat... And really, why should he?]" So saying, he bent his head, not removing the thumb, to lap his tongue along the arch of her neck, shivering at the taste of salt, and growling at the memory it brought up of his own humiliation just a while before, especially considering he couldn't help but lick it again, tongue rasping against the skin.

The thing about the narrating was that it was entirely impossible to ignore. It sank into Grace's mind on a deeper level than any distraction, even something as intense as vampire's blood. And everything it said was true, even if it hadn't been true before he said it. She WAS a helpless toy. She WAS without any greater purpose than to feed him and amuse him. And she WAS humiliated, in a way she could no longer distract herself from. She twitched in his grasp, suddenly longing to pull away. She knew she wouldn't, though, even if she could.

The feeling of her mind crumbling into the Narrative was akin to arousal for the Host. Whereas he saw his Subjects as little more than words to be respoken, unwound and changed to suit the story, the rush of power from their succumbing was enough to cause that growl to become a moan of his own, especially when Grace twitched in his grasp. “Oh no, poor thing. I have no plans to ever let you go. Not until you've long since faded beyond what you ever began life as. Such an imagination can last me a very long time, Subject mine.” Grip tightening to a bruising pressure on her waist, his hand digging into her ribs as he crushed her to him, then marched forward until she was pinned to the wall, he smiled into her throat, confident that he'd won. “I'd say hold still so it doesn't hurt so bad, but who would I be kidding?” With that he opened his jaws and jammed the fangs deeply into the scar tissue left on her throat from Dark's earlier feeding, covering up the mark on his property with a crushing, draining bite of his own.

Grace tried to whimper something like "no" and "please" and "stop" but with her mouth wrapped around his thumb all that really came out was the whimpering. The physical pain of his rough handling wasn't so bad, even grounding, but his plans for her future had her _sobbing_. Tears flowed even as the perverse euphoria of the bite takes hold.

The Host couldn't help himself. Even as the hunger rumbled from his chest like a living thing, he paused and released her throat to press his bloody lips to her cheek, delighting in the taste of her despair. “Yes, such a delightful Subject you are. So damned bittersweet. I love it. Please, do continue...” It was a strange reflection of Dark lapping up the blood from his cheeks earlier, but it was too good to ignore. Her wracking sobs just caused him to moan louder into her skin, smearing her own blood onto her cheek. The wound on her neck bubbled freely though, the scent drawing him back to lap at it hungrily, chomping right back down with a content groan as he drank deeply. The Narrative draped contentedly over them both, an almost sentient thing coursing over her form and digging into her mind, just as happy with this arrangement as he was. No longer seeing the need to play on the sexual overtones of the situation, he instead set about to finally enjoy his damned lunch...

She was actually _relieved_ when he went back to biting her. She was as much his powerless plaything as it was possible to be either way, if the ecstatic daze of a feeding trance was the only benefit then she might as well have _that_. But shame still twisted in her gut at the idea of liking or wanting _any_ of this...

As it settled, the Narrative continued in her head, no longer needing to be spoken aloud with how much control it was gaining. It whispered of years and years of being used, being owned, being a good, obedient little plaything, and snaked around her brain just as hungrily as the Host sucked at her throat. Her thoughts fattened it, made its grip stronger. A seemingly endless spiral. It dug into the memory of Dark's blood on her tongue and sent punishing waves of pain into the memory, instead playing on the hypnotic quality of the Host's blood, reminding Grace who she should come crawling to when so desperate, binding her closer and tighter to its voracious power. She belonged to himThem, and not to the other ego. [Be mine], it commanded, pushing and crushing like a python of silent words. [There's no escape for you, anyway...]

“Nn fka,” a reasonable approximation of "no escape" emerged from Grace's abused mouth without her having formed it.

Yes. Good. Her place was right here. Right in his grasp. Right where the Host and the Narrative could continue to break and mold and rebuild her as the whim came and went. As if in reward, the crushing pressure of the teeth eased, the arm binding her close sliding up and down her spine now, as both Host and Narrative hummed their pleasure at her will being intertwined with the power he'd been granted by the Manor all those years ago. Such a good little thing... And so fun to play with. It was wonderful to have entertainment with dinner.

She didn’t need to be crushed close by his arm, now. She was crushed close by his words, spoken and unspoken, involuntarily pressing herself into him as if trying to crawl inside his skin even as she continued to cry.

Yes. _Perfect._ The Narrative writhed pleasantly deeper into its newest victim, happily funneling energy between it and the Host, taking some for its own to gain more power, and just as much control of the Host... Finally, the Host stopped feeding from Grace's throat, swiping his tongue over it to avoid the annoyance of having to bring her back from the dead, later. He then returned to lapping at the dried and fresh tears on her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her eye. Easing the thumb from her mouth he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, caging her to his body.

Even glutted and exhausted as she was, Grace couldn’t help but feel a twinge of wanting more as soon as the Host took his thumb away. She’ll probably want it forever, no matter what; it was weak enough right now compared to the heavy shackles of his power that she made no move to follow the hand, but strong enough compared to her shattered thought processes that she couldn’t stop murmuring: “more, please more..."

 “Oh, dear. Did I make you addicted?” He asked, knowing full well the answer. “Addicts make such interesting plot devices too... What shall I do with you, next?” Smirking, he decided to play a little longer with his captive, once more nicking open his tongue, recalling how she didn't really enjoy deep kissing... Too bad, so sad. Tilting her head up he slowly pressed his lips to hers, his bloody tongue slipping past her teeth as he did so. “Thereyego,” he murmured into her mouth, opening it to dig deeper.

It's still kind of squishy and gross, but it came with exactly what Grace wanted so she just opened up to give him further access, eyes rolling back in mindless pleasure.

After a bit more of this, the Host pulled away, humming thoughtfully. “You know, you never did describe the tiles for me. Maybe you need more of an incentive?” He could have been nice enough to at least use his thumb wound, but where was the fun in that? Not when he could bite down on his tongue, squeezing a few large drops to splatter on the floor, below. An idle shove on top of her head added more "pressure" as it were.

“Wha-?” Grace just blinked stupidly a moment, not understanding at first what was expected of her until the Host shoved her head downward. Some near-forgotten shred of desire for dignity stung, warring with the terrible hunger and the certain knowledge that he _would_ have what he wanted from her and that trying to keep it from him would only invite more suffering. She hesitated a long moment. Maybe if she does what he’s actually _asked_ for...? “It’s not tiles, it looks like all one piece- I think it’s polished concrete?”

He played along for now, though that hand on her head continued to press her down towards where those red stains inevitably waited. “Concrete, huh? What color is it? The texture? How good a polish? A sheen? Let's practice your story telling skills, Ms. Colton. Impress me.”

“It's very shiny.” Grace couldn't quite push back against the Host's physical guidance and continued to sink downward till she was back on her knees. The floor was hard, but at least it was smooth, without grit digging into her. She tried to look anywhere but at the blood, with mixed success. “Almost glassy, even. And sort of a cool brown, with some patterning- it's probably dyed or something, I don't know much about concrete. To look sort of like stone, but stone wouldn't be all one piece. There's some blue in it. And some-“ -she licked her lips audibly, and couldn't keep the need out of her voice- “-red.”

“Glassy? Look closely then. Can you make out any reflections? Come on. You have actual eyes to see with. This should be easy as pie.” He patted her head playfully, adding, “We can start simply if you need. You seem to be good with colors. Let's describe those better. Is it the same brown as a type of wood? Sky blue? Sea blue? Lapis?” He barely kept the chuckle out of his voice, “Crimson? Corral? Or is it a deeper red...?”

“I- I can see the lights reflected. At certain angles. It's different shades, patterned, like I said. Sort of buff in places. More, uh, russet where it's going to r. Red. And more slate blue. I guess some people would call that gray but in terms of stone colors that's blue.”

“Sounds quite lovely.” He said gently, coaxing. “Now with how shiny it is, it's likely very clean. Is it? Are there any stray dust bunnies? Any dirt? What about, hmm...” He paused as if in deep thought, then snapped his bloody fingers, splattering a little mist of red across the floor at his feet. Some even got on his shoes _._ “Maybe _stains?”_

“There's- oh god-“ -Grace couldn't suppress a whimper of desire as more blood was added to the spatter on the floor- “-the, the drops aren't really soaking in or anything... not standing out as much as on plastic or something though. They're all I can see...” Whether that was because this wasn't a hugely high-traffic area and there really wasn't much in the way of visible dirt, or because Grace was entirely transfixed by the blood, was debatable.

“The drops? There are drops? I don't recall you describing them... What do they look like, Ms. Colton? Concentrate now...” He grinned, lifting the bloody boot up to shove down on her shoulder. “Maybe if you got _closer.”_

 _You know they're there, you put them there_ , she wanted to scream, as she was forced to hands and knees. At this distance she could _smell_ it, sickly-sweet and compelling. “Red. Deep... deep, rich red. I- I need- please-”

“Need what, sorry? I'm not sure I understand.” Futher and further down, foot pressing almost into her back now. “Again, texture now, Ms. Colton. I want to be able to imagine each individual drop. Keep going, now...” This next shove was sharper, nearly pinning her beneath his boot.

“R-red and thick and- and-” Grace's vision blurred with unshed tears as she was finally pushed onto her belly and her resolve finally broke. Her tongue flickered out, hesitantly, dabbing up a few of the smaller drops and hardly any floor grit, and when the taste of it exploded in her mind it brought down the floodgates. For the life of her she couldn't stop herself from lapping up all the blood she could see now.

Hearing the break in her voice followed by the quiet lapping, the Host tilted his head, rubbing his chin with his gloved hand. “Oh, how kind of you to help clean up! How about you help with this?” So saying, he took the boot from her back and set it in front of her, reaching down to graciously lift his pants leg to give her plenty of room to "clean" his boot. “Try not to get my socks wet, would you, dear?”

The only answer Grace could make was a humiliated sob. She'll do it, of course, having made short work of what was on the floor itself, and she'd have been even more unhappy if he _hadn't_ let her at the blood on his boots, but that didn't make her any less aware of her degraded position. The floor had been without any taste of its own. This blood had taken on a somewhat acrid flavor of leather. It didn't make any difference to her need.

“Remind me to call on you next time I need my boots polished. You do such a _thorough_ job.” Once the blood was gone, he switched feet. This shoe had no blood at all on it, nor did he intend to fix that. Instead, he said, “You may clean this one as well. I'd like them to match.”

Grace stared at the other shoe for a long moment. There was nothing at all in this for her. With none of her master's blood in sight, her mind was slightly clearer and certainly more capable of processing the humiliation. On the other hand, what was one more, against everything she'd just done? She didn't begin just yet, nor move away. Just stared and weighed the few remaining shreds of her self-respect against what the Host will definitely do if she tried to refuse.

She took too long. With unerring accuracy, the boot she'd just finished polishing with her tongue swung out to strike at the same shoulder he'd dug his claws into before, aiming for pain, but not breakage. This time. “I'm _waiting,_ Ms. Colton. Are you unable to see what I'm talking about?”

Grace cried out in pain and clutched her battered shoulder with the opposite hand. “No, I see, I- I’ll do it!” For this, she had to force herself rather than just giving way. It will taste foul and feel worse. That didn’t matter. It couldn’t. She scooted forward a little on her belly for a better angle and, gut churning, began to lick.

“That's _my_ girl,” he purred, standing patiently, arms crossed. Sometimes it was fun to hold onto the Narrative and just let them break naturally. Still, he wasn't going to avoid the view, as it were... So he calmly began to outline her actions. "[On her belly, little better than a lizard, and oddly similar to such creatures in view of seeing her tongue stroke shuddering, disgusted ruts across the leather.]" Smiling fondly down at her, he quietly enjoyed the show... Might as well let her have a break, yes? There, even he could be merciful...

It was impossible to just tune out to get through it with him saying things like _that_. That commentary sinking into her mind made her want to throw up, which was the last thing she needed right now. The way things had been going so far he'd probably make her eat it or some shit. No. And don't criticize his sentence structure either. At least he seemed content with just the one line's worth of describing. It was the smallest of small mercies, but it was there.

After a couple minutes, the Host pulled Grace up to her knees. Bending to her ear, he murmured, "[Grace knows full well that the Host plans to keep his Subject for a very long time. She belongs to him. And even as she despairs of it in the depths of her soul, she knows she couldn't flee him without permission. He'll _always_ be there for his wonderful Subject. Right up until the End of her tragic story.]" With that, he kissed her brow again, appearing almost tender but for the smear of her blood he left behind. “I'm glad you remembered your _place_ , Ms. Colton.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new ~~suffering assistant~~ character enters the scene. There's a rabbit and Dark gets coffee spilled on his dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's kind of a plot now??? wowie what an unexpected turn
> 
> we've got a couple new characters in this bit! one is Deborah Harris, an oc of one of my friends. we saw her briefly in the first chapter, taking a bunny out of the room; she has a backstory, which gets touched on in this story, but will be more fully explored in a different rp i'm doing with her. the other new character is a kind of self-insert of a different friend, who is a test subject for the googles, but for the purposes of goofs sneaks out and gets turned into a bunny by wilford. we specifially wanted to do a bit where dark gets coffee spilled on him, so these next three chapters resulted from that.
> 
> dark is bitter and petty as fuck, don't expect too much from him lmao
> 
> dark: me  
> deborah harris: http://akatriel-rowanborn.tumblr.com/  
> anna, the bun (pronounced ah-nuh): friendo named anna, who is not the same person that played grace

She was on her break. It was the only excuse she could give herself for wanting to go find out what that sad, high pitched squeaking noise was. ...Er, yes, she may have moved said lunch hour up a bit earlier than normal, but hell, half the time she forgot it and just left an hour early, anyway. This at least meant no chance of calls being missed at the end of the day. She rounded one of many corners, still unsure of the layout of this place. She felt a little stupid following a noise, but it was driving her up a wall. Pushing open a door, it grew louder, along with a rattling tap, like metal rungs being papped, and- She instantly ducked back out the door, swinging it shut and turning red as her blouse. She had _not_ expected to walk in on all three of her new bosses... In that position... Fuck. "Quite literally," a part of her brain supplied before being strangled silent. Still, in the glimpse of the room, the squeaking had been much louder, and there had been a small cage on the couch. Fucking hell, they could have put a sign up or locked the door or- She frowned as the squeaks sounded so SAD and just sighed. That wasn't bed springs. She knew that sound from... Experience. Rubbing her arm idly, she covered her eyes, took a deep breath, and rushed back in, over to the cage, making dead sure to only look at it and nope, those sounds she was hearing we're not happening, no matter how damn loud they were, or how much they sounded like her new boss's deep voice made into a groan. _Nope._  

The rabbit saw the new comer and stop squeaking for a second. She then squeaked cheerfully and tapped the door more.

"Why a bunny? Why the hell do they have a bunny, oh God, nope. I'll ask that later." Her whispered confusion rose to a slight squeak of her own when another set of noises sounded behind her and Deborah decided now was NOT the time to question shit. Instead, before she needed any more mind bleach, she scooped up the little metal handle on top and tried to gently cart the cage from the room, closing the door behind her, and setting it on the floor. If anything, she was an even darker red, but at least the sounds that _did not exist_ were muffled with the door closed. Holy shit. She flopped down, eyes screwed shut. "I don't drink enough for this."

The rabbit squeak-laughed at the comment, then she gently tapped the latch again.

Deb blinked down at the bunny, giving herself a chance to look it over for the first time. It was black as coal, and fluffy as was barely legal by cuteness standards. And it was tapping at the bars as if expecting to be let out. "Well, at least you don't seem worse for wear." She wasn't quite sure she should mess with it, though. What if it got loose?

The rabbit stopped tapping the cage and rested her foot on the latch, then let a long drawn out squeak as if to say "Pleaseeeeeeeeeee".

"Oh no. You're cute." Deborah ignored the fact that her voice just went three octaves out the window, and bit her lip. "Please don't be a bitey bunny. Or a runner or something. I don't know how I'd find you if you got lost, and if you're the bosses pet or something... I really don't want to be responsible for you getting hurt or lost." Why was she babbling to a rabbit like it could understand her? Shaking her head, she bent to unlatch the metal hatch on the front of the cage, slowly opening it, in case it tried to bolt.

The rabbit nodded and squeaked; she hopped to sit right next to the door and waited for her to open the door.

Deb paused, a little startled at how... Human?... A reaction the little bun seemed to give, before shaking her head and finishing opening the door, trying to position her hands to either side, hoping that would keep it from running. It seemed friendly though, with it's cute outfit. Maybe it'd sit still.

The rabbit hopped out and immediately hopped over Deb’s hand and ran down the hallway. She then came back running and squeaked. She nuzzled her head against Deb’s hand as a thank you.

"Ah, shit! No, no, Bunnybun. Come here, Bunnybun!" Shit, animals liked calm voices, didn't they? Losing the bosses pet made her anything but calm sounding. She tried to snatch at the bun, scrambling forward, legs getting in the way as she tried to get up.

The rabbit got scared she might get stepped on and hopped behind the cage with her head sticking out, waiting for Deb to stop moving.

Nearly tripping over her own feet -heels. Fucking heels damn it all- Deb saw the poor spooked thing duck behind the cage. Trying to force her voice into something resembling calm, she clicked stupidly with her tongue, as if that'd make the bunny feel better. "Um. Come here, Bunnybun. Who's a pretty fluffle? Please don't get lost Bunnybun..." She tried reaching around both sides of the cage to snatch it.

The rabbit started squeaking and shaking her head at the movement of both hands coming forward her, she then hid her head under her front legs.

"Oh no. Don't be scared. Good Bunnybun. Good... Whatever you are. Who's a fluffy thing?" She tried to scoop it up. "Just gonna put you back in your nice, safe cage, okay?"

The rabbit let out a loud squeak and wiggled and jumped out of her hands. She backed away and kept her shaking her head.

Deb jumped at the squeak, hands snapping to her chest in a mixture of panic that she may have hurt the bunny, or that it could bite. Relaxing again, she reached calloused hands pleadingly, palms upwards, towards the shaking bun, still clicking like an idiot. " _Click click_ Come here. I won't hurt ya. Gooood Bunnybun."

The rabbit tilted her head at her hands and she took a hop forward.

Deb felt her heart lodge in her throat. Hallelujah, it was closer. She continued her insane noises and baby talk. "Who's a gooood Bunnybun? You are. Just come where I can reach you... You need to go back in your boxy box..."

As soon as the woman said she needed to go back into the cage, the rabbit shook her head and thumped her foot.

"Come on Thumper, my job's on the line. What if I give you a nice, nummy carrot? Lettuce?" She scooted forward slowly, bum in the air, bent at the waist, palms outstretched. This was _not_ how she'd imagined her new job to be.

The bunny thumped her foot again and paced back and forth.

Deb made one more scoot, before lunging, trying to catch the bunny.

The rabbit squeaked in surprise and hopped on top of her hands and then onto her back as she lunged forward.

Hitting the ground hard enough to bruise her elbows and knock her chin, Deb was a bit too stunned to catch the bun sitting on her shoulders, sneaky as you please, the little fluffy bastard. "You're lucky that you're adorable." She growled.

The bunny squeak-laughed again and nuzzled into Debs hair.

Deb sighed, a little more amused this time. "Sneaky little devil, aren't you?"

The rabbit nodded but stayed curled up where she was.

Deb could almost have sworn she saw the damn fluffle nod to that comment... Okay, maaayybee she should get more sleep. Something. If she was lucky, maybe this was even some sort of crazy dream and she was just dumbly drooling on her desk or something. Well, hopefully not... But still. The alternative in the other room was not what she wanted to remember. In a last ditch effort to catch the bugger, she suddenly rolled, flopping onto her back in an attempt to scoop it under her arm.

Surprised by this, the bunny just curled up, scared she might get smooshed.

" _A-HA!_ Got you, you adorable sack of shite!" So shouting, she scooped the bunny up in both hands, holding it victoriously aloft, above where she sprawled, flat on her back.

The bunny nodded at her comment and nuzzled her against her fingers.

The door to the hallway clicked open and then shut as Dark entered. He raised an eyebrow at his new assistant and the tiny black rabbit she held. “And what, pray tell, are you doing Ms. Harris?” His voice was light, amused.

Well. Shit. "I, I just..." She clutched the bunny to her chest, scrabbling up to a seated position, suddenly thankful that she was wearing stockings, today as she folded her legs tightly together under the pencil skirt, not having any intention of giving her new boss a show. Coughing a bit, and trying not to blush, again, she forced her voice to sound half as professional as a load of mind bleach could make it. "The rabbit got loose, so I caught it." Fuck no she wasn't looking him in the eyes right now. Hell, at this angle, she was trying very hard to stare at his knees, and nowhere the fuck else.

The rabbit wiggled and tried to hop out of her hands while she was surprised by Dark.

Too startled to stop the lop-eared menace, Deborah dropped the wiggling bunny into her lap.

Dark maintained an amused smirk at Deborah's struggle to stay professional. “Mhmm. And how did you find the rabbit, to know it was loose?” He stepped forward and plucked the little rabbit out of her lap, being careful not to hurt it as he held it in his grasp with a tight enough grip to keep it from escaping.

The bunny growled a bit at Dark picking her up, and then tried reaching her front legs towards Deb, showing she wanted to go back to her.

At the sudden approach of the knees she'd been keeping her eyes glued on, followed by the pale hand reaching directly into her lap, Deborah nearly leapt out of her skin, instead managing to shakily stand up. Deciding to keep her eyes on the bunny, the nice, safe, not rumpled in the collar bunny, Deborah mumbled a truthful, "I heard it squeaking. It sounded upset." Frankly, it still did, growling like it was, and wiggling adorable feets back at Deborah. She half thought it knew she'd be more likely to release it by mistake, the sneaky thing. Quickly, she added, "What's its name?"

Dark used a single finger to gently pet the bunny between the ears and down it's back, to sooth its squirming. He turned it around to look it in the eyes, and then made a noise in his throat, as if confirming his suspicions. “It's name is Anna. I believe this one belongs to the Googles, but it must've escaped. Wilford must've gotten his hands on it, considering the outfit it's wearing.” Carefully, Dark removed the obnoxiously bright outfit. “There, **much** better.”

"Huh. I didn't think Google was the pet sort." Still not gonna look anywhere but at the bunny. Nope. Fuck this. Holy shit. "So, I should probably just go return... Um, Anna... And get back to lunch." Stepping forward, still not looking at him, she tried reaching for the little bun.

Anna shook her body to fluff out her fur again, happy that the costume was gone. Although she didn't mind the gentle pet, she still reached her front leg towards Deb.

Dark looked down at the wriggling bunny, considering. After a moment he set the bunny in Deborah's outstretched hand, closing her fingers about it. “Actually, keep an eye on the bunny for me, it might be a good companion while you work. If the Googles give you a hard time, tell them I said you'd be able to keep a better eye on it than they can. Oh, and Ms. Harris?” Dark took hold of her chin and forced her to make eye contact with him. “If you find yourself craving a good, filling lunch, I can **provide you** with one.” Here, Dark grinned, his fangs glinting in the light. “The Host back there can certainly attest to the truth of it.”

Anna snuggled into Debs hands, happy to be back in safer hands.

The feeling of his fingers closing over her own was like a vice made of snow. Shivering, she brought the tiny bun to her chest, mutely swallowing and trying to back away, only to have her chin caught and lifted against her will. Instinctive rage at the undesired touch had her snapping her eyes smack into his gaze, her left hand speeding up to grip the wrist of the hand holding her chin. "What the hel-" She blinked, feeling the world slide somehow in her brain, almost stumbling with it, forward, into that... Sharply grinning... Mouth. "I..." She couldn't seem to remember what she'd been about to say. "What do you want, sorry?"

Dark chuckled and stepped back, the grin melting back into an amused smile. “Keep the rabbit with you while you work. If the Googles put up a fuss, just hand it over and tell them I told you to keep an eye on it.” Dark started down the hallway, patting Deb on the shoulder as he passed her. “Continue to work hard, Ms. Harris,” he said idly.

"Of course..." She shivered, releasing him and cradling the bun as he moved away, feeling as if she'd just dodged a bullet. Still, for some reason she almost wanted to follow after him... Blinking after him in confusion, she felt the world repeat its obnoxious mental slide, and blinked as she found herself able to move, again.

Concerned, Anna looked up at her and tapped her hand to see if she was alright

Deb jumped again at the tap, breathing sharply. "Um. Good Bunnybun. I guess I'll just. Um. I have room on the desk for the cage I guess. If you don't run off I can leave the little gate open..." She was babbling to a rabbit. A fucking rabbit. (Okay, no. Don't think that term with what you Just Saw In The Other Room.) But it seemed the only logical thing to do or think or... Anything. She was clinging to that false hope of sanity just then.

Anna tried tapping her front leg again and rubbing her head against Deb’s fingers to comfort her.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Deborah quickly put the bun back in the cage, but left the door open. "Okay," she said in her best Dealing With Stubborn Customers Voice, "I'll leave it open if you promise not to bolt out of there like greased lightning the first chance you get... Um. Anna." She was a little weirded out by the very... Human name choice for a little rodent, but whatever. It somehow fit with how smol it was.

Anna squeaked and nodded quickly, sitting next to the open door.

"You are... One smart Bunnybun." Feeling that same sliding sensation threaten Deborah coughed and switched her mind to the task of remembering where the hell to go from here. Picking up the cage, gently, she started down the hallway, watching the sneaky bun carefully, in case it jumped out. It seemed to be holding still, though... She glanced up, only to realize she'd walked the opposite way from how she'd gone to the door of Mind Bleach and Despair than how she'd gotten to it. Instead, she was following her boss down the way he'd gone. Um. No. Bad legs. Why this way? And yet she was _speeding up_ to catch up with him, now. No. Very bad. WHY? Her voice sounded far less confused than she felt when she called after him, "Um, did you still want to share the rest of the lunch hour?"

Dark paused when she called out to him and made a half-turn to look at her. For a moment he was confused but then he had to turn his face away to suppress his laughter when he realized the assistant's misunderstanding. When he composed himself he turned back to her. “I would not be opposed to that. We haven't had much of an opportunity to... get to know each other since you started working here. I've already had my lunch but I could join you for the remainder of it. Let's head to the break room, shall we?”

Two warring sets of instincts played havoc in her brain as she continued to walk right up to his side, cage in hand. One, the polite, logical worker bee that wanted to keep relations with management running smoothly, and the other a memory of prehistoric monkeys shivering at large shadows overhead and gleaming eyes in the tall grass. The former won out, and she brushed off the oddball feeling of dread as she nodded, following his lead to the breakroom. Thank God and Greyhound it wasn't near the other room...

Anna just looked up at the two of them and watched from her place in the cage.

Dark stayed quiet until they neared the break room. “Has your work been going smoothly thus far?” He asked cordially. He opened the door for her and waited for her to enter. This one was proving interesting thus far and was keen to learn more about her.

The walk seemed to have calmed her nerves, once she had given up trying to tell her feet to go the other way... Deborah nodded again, saying in a less crazed voice than before, "Everything is fine. I still have some calls to make for setting up Mr. Warfstache's and your next trip to L.A. Did you have any preferences for your room? Smoking or non, a view of the pool, that sort of thing? I have Mr. Warfstache registered already, near the indoor gym. He seemed interested in practicing with the equipment." Okay, maybe she was still babbling, but damn it, she had a right to. Thanking him for opening the door, she walked past, once again feeling like it wasn't the best idea to turn her back on him. She forced herself not to rush in placing the bun on the counter as she eyed it while getting her lunch out of the refrigerator. Chicken salad with sliced beats, and a homemade banana nut bread with raisins and a hazelnut spread that she'd made the day before.

Anna carefully stepped out of the cage, since the counter was a tiny bit cold she slowly hopped over to a pile of napkins and curled up on it with her head on her front legs, watching and listening to the conversation. She was learning quite a bit of the place that she hadn't know before, and maybe she could use that.

Deborah took her lunch to the corner seat of the couch, then quickly ran back to scoop up the bunny and cage, setting it on the coffee table. Deciding holding the little devil was the better part of valour, she one handed the coffee maker, holding Anna to her chest carefully. Setting her coffee down on the aptly named table, she dug in her pocket for the sugar packets she had stuffed in there at the beginning of all this craziness, tossing them down and returning to grab the dried creamer. “Um,” She continued her earlier sentence awkwardly, “Do you want any coffee? And did you have any specific needs? For the hotel rooms, I mean.” Nothing like having your boss see you wrestle a rabbit to make you feel as awkward as all hell.

Dark sat down on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs with an ankle over the other knee. He watched as Deborah fumbled with the many items and a wriggly bunny with a neutral face. “Thank you, I would appreciate some coffee. And regarding the rooms, the only stipulation I have is that it be non-smoking.”

Anna stopped wiggling once she got into a comfy position and just nuzzled her head against Debs arm.

“Okay, you're actually very cute when you're not being a little menace.” Deborah murmured fondly, pausing to gently scritch a velvety soft ear. Then called out, “Sure, here you go, sir.” Making another cup, she carted everything back with her, slipping the creamer under her arm to hand him his coffee. She sat back down, deciding she could put the creamer back later. By all and sundry she was actually pretty hungry after Rabbit WrestleMania. The main predicament was that she only had two hands. Frowning, she placed the bunny on the table, both hands hovering around it for a moment as she said firmly, “Sit. Stay. Good Bunnybun.” ...Did she just say "Bunnybun" in front of her boss? Oh, hey, there was that sudden need for a pit to toss herself in. Yep. She coloured again, rubbing her neck to hide it, and grabbing her chicken salad and fork.

Dark took the coffee from her and took a sip from it without adding anything. “Thank you, Ms. Harris.” He took another sip and rested the hand holding the coffee on his knee. “Anna is a terribly adorable little terror, isn't she?”

Anna tilted her head at the statement. She walked towards Dark and nudged his hand with her head. She then stuck her tongue out.

 _Oh no. It blep._ Her brain stupidly supplied, and she couldn't help but reach over to scritch it again. “She is, definitely. Seems pretty smart too.” _You say about the thing that managed to pin you to the floor?_ Telling her brain to shut the fuck up, she took another couple bites of her salad.

Anna squeaked happily while turning her head to nod at Deb, she then nudged Darks hand again.

Dark chuckled good-naturedly and gently pet the little black rabbit, scritching it twice between the ears. “Most animals are quite intelligent. Moreso than some of the other people working in this office,” he sighed. “The Jims do excellent work, but god are they stupid.”

“They're good with people at least. They always seem to be able to make even the grumpiest person laugh.” She shrugged, finishing off her salad with the practice of someone used to short lunches. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she checked her phone to make sure she still had time, and relaxed a bit, catching up the banana nut bread, pausing to pull off a chunk and hold it out towards Dark with a muttered, “Hungry? It's banana nut bread, if you have allergies. The bun might like it too...”

Anna's head popped up as she heard Deb offer it.

Dark grinned a little, his fangs showing. “You are far too generous, my dear. I have a particular fondness for banana nut bread,” he said, placing a slight emphasis on 'nut'. He placed the hand closest to Deborah onto the cushion between them and leaned forward, opening his mouth. His fangs glistened slightly in the light, traces of blood visible as he delicately closed his mouth around the morsel and the very tips of Deborah's fingers. He withdrew and began chewing, eyes glinting mischievously. The movement caused him to rest the arm holding his coffee on the side of his calf, the coffee held loosely over the carpet of the break room.

Deborah choked at the words, then again, much louder when he suddenly just _fucking took it out of her hand with his teeth_ , and why did they look so wei- Just then her phone buzzed on the table, vibrating as a text went through.

Anna, being next to the phone, got terribly startled by it and while squeaking in fright, jumped back, knocking Dark's cup of coffee over and burning part of her leg. She fell on the floor and let out pained squeaks because of the _tiny_ burn on her foot _._

The hot coffee spilled onto his leg and his crotch, and he stood up abruptly, letting out a hideous noise somewhere between a choked growl and a hiss. “You little-!” He had to suppress the violent urge to either kick the rabbit or pick it up and throw it across the room, because with his assistant in the room, he still had to act something resembling gentlemanly, lest he deal with unnecessary scolding. This predicament left him just seething, staring at his steaming crotch, bright red fragments briefly splitting off to shriek and rage.

The second the bunny started crying, Deborah forgot her worry about the weird bite, leaping up and nearly shoving her boss out of the way to scoop up the bunny and raced around to the sink, turning on the cold water and gently but firmly holding the bunny's foot under the stream. “It's okay Bunnybun. You're a good little bun.”

Dark stumbled back a step from Deborah's haste to get by. For an instant his rage heightened, and then it fizzled slightly in favor of confusion, his face a mixture of anger and bewilderment. There were many things he wanted to say, all of them cruel and vicious, but what actually came out of his mouth was a soft but emphatic “What the fuck?”

Deborah was half panicked at the possibility of having gotten the office pet hurt somehow that it took hearing her boss's voice fall an octave into confused annoyance to realize her mistake. Looking back at the man, she grit her teeth and cuddling the little bun, asked, “Do you want a towel, sir?” Well, she was fired for sure...

Dark turned his gaze to Deborah, and the confusion fell away to leave pure anger. From between gritted teeth he growled, “Yes, I **would** like a towel, thank you for being so **considerate**.” Dark began delicately walking towards Deborah, the foam cup crumpling in his hand. He began considering whether or not this was a sufficient enough offense to throw her in the void for a few minutes...

Those prehistoric mousey instincts were flaring up, again, and suddenly, Deborah's demeanor switched from cringing back, to standing straight, looking the advancing man in the eye, body at an angle, as if half prepared to punch him. To be honest, she had half a mind to- okay. No. No fighting your boss. Instead, she just grabbed a handful of paper towels and shoved them at him, waiting. Fuck no would she back down from crazy man rage.

Dark stepped closer and ripped the paper towels out of her hand and turned half away from her and from the break room door, remembering to at least observe standard human etiquette protocols. He'd noticed the protective stance she'd used; let her try, for all the good it would do her. Using the paper towels, he gripped at the fabric of his suit pants to soak up the coffee. After a minute of this, he tossed the paper towels and the cup into the trash. He turned back to her, straightening his suit jacket out. “Is the poor little rabbit alright? I'd **hate** for it to somehow be **injured** in this ordeal,” he said, mocking and angry.

Deborah forced the hand that had clenched at her side to relax, reaching it up to pet the bunny, still staring her boss in the eye. It was stupid, but he'd scared her, then pissed her off. Even shorter than him, she managed to somehow look down her nose at him as she said, calmly, “It's not crying anymore. Are you okay, sir?” It was very hard not to lace the polite tone with an underlying "fuck you." He was a grown ass man, whining about fucking coffee in his lap. No. He could shove it. Just in case, she set the bunny gently on the counter top, next to the sink, in case the raging manchild decided to take out his upset on her.

Anna glanced up at angry Dark once and nope, she was screwed. She avoided looking at him and without using her bad leg, she careful walks a small bit so she was closer to Deb, Dark was really scaring her now.

Dark wasn't even mad about the hot coffee directly to his dick. (Okay, he was, it was incredibly annoying, but it was just a suit, he could just get it dry-cleaned, but that wasn't the point.) It was about the sheer disrespect Deborah had shown, how dare she. He should- no, the human was too stupid, throwing her into the void would only make him look bad in her eyes. Perhaps this was a case of "less is more". “Well that's good.” The mockery in his voice had gone, the anger simmering just under the surface, leaving his tone dangerous, like Deborah ought to consider her words very carefully. He stepped forward a little, just close enough that the distance between them was still considered 'proper'. “I am fine, Ms. Harris, thank you for asking. It is merely a **suit** , after all, I could simply change into another one.” He paused, inhaling and then exhaling. “It was a **pleasure** sharing the lunch hour with you, but if you'll excuse me, I have some **work** to attend to.” He turned on his heel and exited the room, his steps clicking loudly, even on the carpet. The door closed behind him very softly, much softer than one would've expected from someone who had just been very angry.

Anna let out a sigh of relief and looked up at Deb to see her reaction.

Once Dark had gone, Deb stood stock still for a moment longer, then turned to the sink, resting both hands on the edge, and almost panting from residual adrenaline leaving her system. Every muscle felt raw and tense, like she'd gone a full hand in the ring without stopping, and her mind was screaming at everything that had just occurred. It was too similar, too much like the memory of ice blue eyes and rapid, painful jabs. Self conscious, she gripped the arm where the ragged white scar was thankfully hidden beneath her long sleeve. Moments later and those same fingers tightened to an almost bruising pressure, disgust twisting her features as she realized how scared she'd been. Hell and Hightower, she was sick of this cold feeling of weakness inside her gut. It was awful to taste that same fear at the back of her throat now. Not even caring about a cup, Deborah just turned the water back on, splashing back palm-full after palm-full of lukewarm water to wash away the dread and slowly relax those rigid muscles between her shoulders. Only once she was certain that she wouldn't shake did she slowly reach towards the bunny, cooing as softly as she could manage, “You didn't mean it. You're a good Bunnybun...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect a new chapter on tuesday! i spent all day yesterday editing, and i'm finally done!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark continues to be an asshole, and a surprise guest manages to piss him off by not even being there. Deborah continues to be snarky as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the part where some kinda plot comes in?? surprise??? i'll tag the "surprise guest" when the next chapter comes out, to avoid spoilers :3  
> next part will arrive thursday (in two days)
> 
> dark: me (https://silverpracticality.tumblr.com/)  
> deb: http://akatriel-rowanborn.tumblr.com/  
> anna bun: https://fabulousshitposting.tumblr.com/

The timer on her phone went off. Frowning at it, sitting innocently on the table, Deborah couldn't help but blame the little gadget for her likely job loss. Scooping up the bunny and carrying it back to tuck it inside the broken cage, she paused, changing her mind at the last second. Instead, she closed the metal hatch, tucking the bunbun into her blazer's hip pocket. “Well. Let's see if I can last until another paycheck, Bunnybun.” She sighed the sigh of the long suffering. Always great to know her incredible lack of people skills were going to be tested by a toddler for a boss. _Now, that's unfair. Hot coffee to the crotch will make any age group cry. He's more like an angsty teen stealing his mother's eyeliner for the first time, anyway..._ She thought unkindly.

Hand cupped over the bunny, she finished cleaning up the mess as best she could with paper towels, before walking back to her office area. Dropping the cage on top of her desk, she quickly paged Maintenance to warn them about the spill, and apologized for the inconvenience. Hanging up her receiver, she looked at the door that led to her boss's office, feeling far less apologetic. Still, better to swallow her pride than more ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner during yet another job hunting spree. Still, she was damn good at hiding how she felt when she wanted to be, so of course those tense shoulders softened into a polite arch, her glaring eyes lowered in contrition, and all the curse words swirling in her mind filtered into a steady, humble breath as she knocked at the door to Dark's office. “Sir? It's Deborah Harris. I wanted to apologize.” For your behavior...

Anna snuggled into the pocket to get comfortable then stick her head out a small bit to be able to see.

Dark was quite surprised to hear the knock on his door, even more so that Deborah wanted to apologize. As well she should; the stubborn woman may avoid a trip into the void yet. He relaxed into his seat, having changed into a new pair of suit pants at the first opportunity. “Enter,” he called, wrapping up the bit of paperwork he'd been focused on.

Opening the door, Deborah stepped into the office, breathing gentling as professional instincts took over. Standing in front of the desk, she began, voice calmer than the caustic remarks she had fluttering in her skull, “I wanted to apologize for my actions, earlier. If you want, I can take your suit to the cleaners at the end of the day.”

As Deborah finished speaking, he placed his pen delicately down on the desk and sat back in his seat to judge her expression and the sincerity of her apology. One look at her eyes told him this was more about getting back into his good graces than anything else. Several responses for the woman flickered through his mind all at the same time and he sat quietly a couple moments, deciding. He finally sighed through his nose, allowing his Aura's presence to settle more thickly about the room. “I accept your apology, Miss Harris. It is exceptionally generous of you to offer to do that, I would much appreciate it; I'll have it ready for you before you leave.” He smiled wryly, letting his fangs show a little. “Do be careful though; Anne doesn't take too kindly to people trying to take over her job.”

Does he never turn the air conditioning off in here? She wondered as her skin seemed to decide it couldn't crawl fast enough, to avoid what felt like a mini ice age in the area directly in front of his desk. “I'll be sure to bring it back tomorrow morning, sir.” At the latter warning, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. How many women did he have running his errands for him? “I'm sure,” she said carefully, “that Ms. Dearheart has plenty more important things to do, sir. I wouldn't want to waste her time.” Her spine felt like it wanted to slither out of her back for some reason. She felt odd staring at that smile. It was damned familiar somehow...

Anna poked her head more out of the pocket and squeaked at Dark a couple times because of the aura.

One of Dark's eyebrows briefly twitched downwards at the squeaking, but said nothing. He maintained his smile and the heaviness of the Aura and then he chuckled at Deborah's statement. “Oh, I assure you, Anne would **much** appreciate the company of another woman for once; goodness knows she's tired of having to deal with Wilford's nonsensical behavior. In fact, I dare say the two of you would get along swimmingly.” Dark paused for a moment, considering his next words. “Do make sure you return the little rabbit in your pocket to the Googles before you leave; they'd be **terribly** cross if you took their pet home by accident, they may very well slow down the internet in the building out of spite.” Dark chuckled again, more to himself this time. “Terribly petty creatures they are, those androids.”

 _Yes. Because you aren't petty as a Lolita on Valentine's Day-_ “...Androids?” She frowned, confused. Was this a new insult for I. T. Guys that she hadn't heard, before?

Dark blinked once, and tilted his head to the side. To tell the truth or not... “Yes, androids. They're terrible at being personable, what with their robotic personalities, so we lovingly bully them by calling androids.” He smiled benignly. “I'm sure you know people like that, don't you?”

 _I'm looking at one, now..._ She thought uncharitably. Then added politely, “Well, I'm sure I'll be able to talk to Ms. Dearheart during the company holidays and lunch, so I'll keep that in mind.” That wasn't very likely, but she could fake it. She stood straighter, feeling that chill seeping deeper into her bones. It was strangely... Fuzzy? Like her brain was as cotton soft as the bunny. “I...” She frowned, rubbing her temple in confusion.

Dark continued to smile pleasantly, and the Aura weighed down further, something insidiously threatening seeping into it. “Is there something wrong, Miss Harris?”

Anna screeched a bit and growled at Dark. She turned and started tapping Deb and reaching her other front leg towards Deb's hand.

The rabbit was upset. Dimly she realized she'd been holding on to the edge of the desk as if to keep from getting dragged away. Prying her fingers loose, Deborah tried to pat the scared thing, only to feel an almost sickening wave of fear rear up in the back of her mind. It felt like her brain was on autopilot, trying to scream to leave the hungry cold as if it were a threat... Glancing up at the words that barely registered, all she could see suddenly were those pale teeth. A smile sharp and wicked and playful... No. Not right now, please... “I... I am-” she felt almost desensitized, yet her brain continued to scream illogically. Memories purred at the back of her mind that could Not Exist, Damn It. She was shivering.

There was amusement in Dark's voice as he spoke. “Oh, the little rabbit is such a feisty little thing isn't she? How adorable.” He saw her shake and shiver, and something twisted and pleased settled in his chest, light and mischievous. “Are you feeling alright? You look unwell, Miss Harris.”

No. No, she wasn't feeling well. In fact, besides fear, she felt almost nothing at all, and that only served to cause that primordial instinct of fight or flight to scream louder in panic, as if trying to wrestle control of her legs to move her away. This was wrong, though. She tried to remind herself she wasn't trapped anymore. She could just walk out the door... But somehow she doubted that was possible, anymore. It wasn't cold, damn it. Not even freezing. It was nothing, and it was too damned familiar. She needed to say something. Needed to excuse herself before she made an even bigger fool of herself in front of her boss. “I'm fin-” But the simple word, "feisty," was enough to lock Deborah's knees rigid, her hand gripping one of the chairbacks in front of his desk. Nonono. She wasn't fighting. She wasn't being feisty. Her eyes paling with fearful memory she stuttered, desperate to answer, voice cracking, “I'm fine, Ant- Sir. I'm fine. I...” She was anything but fine if the mistake and half terrified panting breaths were anything to go by. That sharp smile. Please, no...

Did she...? Did almost say...? No. There was absolutely no fucking way she knew that abominable glitch. His good mood dropped instantly. His smile warped into a snarl, and the Aura responded to his mood, becoming oppressive. “ **What** , pray tell, was that **name** you were about to say?”

Was she on the floor? When did she- it didn't matter. No. God, she couldn't understand what her senses were trying to tell her, anymore. Everything felt distant, except for words that cut like the knife that gleamed playfully in her memory, dancing over skin, into it... “He-he's not here. Anti isn't here.” It was as much an answer as she could give, curled up against the chair legs, eyes screwed shut as her panic rose. Why now? Why?

Dark stood up as she dropped to the floor, and hot anger flooded him as the human whimpered out the name of That Wretched Glitch Bitch. Almost without his input, his legs had made him round the desk and his fists were clenched with impatient rage. She could stand fearlessly in the face of his own rage, but the insufferable glitch was able to make her spiral into terror without even being _around_?? What the actual fuck. He wanted to backhand her. He wanted to throw her into the void. He wanted to make the Aura choke about her so thick and oppressive he'd be able to put the fear of himself into her for once. But, if he wanted answers he couldn't do that. So, with what seemed like monumental effort, he forced his face into a relatively calm facade, and he eased the Aura back to a heavy weight that comforted as much as it felt quietly dangerous; he couldn't interrogate a human that was scared out of its wits. He unclenched his fists and knelt down in front of her. He forced his voice to level and calm as much as he could, but threads of anger seemed to fray at his edges anyway. “I should hope not, Miss Harris. It's just the two of us here. Now if you please, could you tell me how you **know** Anti? He is a unique.... **acquaintance** of mine and I am terribly **curious** as to how you met him.”

The name had her backing into the chair legs further, eyes darting around as if expecting a nightmare to come out during the day... She barely registered the man kneeling in front of her, and it was an effort to concentrate on what he said. His voice was soothing, and didn't match the tension she instinctively noted in his muscles. He sounded like a lawyer, but he looked like a prize fighter who had just been told he'd been denied the Championship. The incongruous picture was too similar to the flickering images of the pale, smiling face that morphed into and out of snarling, laughing horror in her mind. Deborah's feet dug ruts in the carpet as she pushed her knees into her chest, the force of her movement sliding the chair back enough that she almost fell over backwards, having to catch herself with a shaking hand. The hidden scars seem to almost buzz at that name being spoken aloud, and to her horror it was still _pleasant_ to hear, as well as painful. But she did manage to latch onto one thing the man said. “You... _Know him?!”_

Still too panicked. He eased up further on the dangerous quality of his Aura, but his body still buzzed with anger. He took a deep breath to calm himself at least a little bit but played it off as a weary sigh. “Unfortunately yes, I do. He has caused me enough trouble to last a **lifetime** , I'm afraid. How did a human like you catch his interest? Pardon my phrasing, but you're terribly plain for his taste, in my opinion.”

Human?! No. No, no, no. This wasn't right, wasn't _real._ His phrasing alone triggered contrary reactions in her gut. Memories warring with sympathetic therapy sessions, each fighting for dominance in how she handled the entire damned world. Again, her hands curved into fists, as if she could fend of the man's words. It rang starkly against the fear the memories tried to produce, and painted a haze of flickering rage in her eyes. How dare he play this game with her? How dare he pretend this was real? It wasn't. It couldn't be. _She wouldn't let it._

“Who the hell are you?” Her question barely made sense, but it held a tangled web of self doubt, pent up rage and denial that could have netted a whale. “Quit playing, damn it. _Please,_ quit playing. I'll...” She swallowed as the rage seemed to drain from her like blood from a wound, unable to retain a semblance of order. “He's just an abusive _man,_ not a monster...” Eyes closing, again, Deb barely choked out, “He's not here, anymore. He's just a man... Right?” No, no, no...

The human was becoming angry as well as afraid, this was no good at all, this was- ah so that's what this all was; denial, every inch of it. He definitely wasn't bitter that it was a glitch at the center of all this and not him, nope not bitter at all. He was pleased to have an opportunity to break her, but not like this, damn it. Now where to start with this mess of a human? His Aura settled around her like a comforting blanket. “Oh, my dear, I'm **not** playing. Anti **is** a monster, in every sense of the word as a matter of fact. And no, he's **not** here, he's off somewhere else, probably breaking another toy as is his wont. But don't worry, Miss Harris, I'll **protect you** from him. I don't want that bastard around either, just like you.”

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Somehow the closing, numbing atmosphere was almost... Soothing, now. The words she strained to understand, that had stabbed so harshly before, were now thick and comforting, like sinking into a warm bath after a long day. And, Deborah wondered, did it have the same chance of drowning? It was horridly reminiscent of the pleasure/agony Anti loved to break her thoughts with. Still, oddly, her first words were slightly stronger than before, “I don't want to be protected... I made sure not to be the me he had tied up like... Like a puppet...” The word tasted of blood and worse, desire. Though not calmer, per se, Deb was finally able to look the man -Dark- She could use other men’s names, if she wanted, now. It was only after she'd zeroed in on his face that Deb remembered how bad an idea that had been with Anti...

She was much calmer now, much better. “No, you're very strong, aren't you? Very stubborn. Something tells me you have a lot of experience with his dirty little tricks, so if you are **willing** , I'd love for you to tell me about them. Any additional information you can provide me with will help **both of us** keep him out of our lives that much better.”

Anna poked her head back out of the pocket she had been hiding in during this and looked around. She then hopped out of Deb's pocket and onto the ground. Hopping over to Deb's hand, she nuzzled her head against it and tried to crawl under it.

Feeling something fragile and soft nose under her hand, Deb couldn't help but curve her fingers around it, protectively. Dark's voice continued to register, demanding answers even as it soothed. Almost against her will, Deborah muttered, “They said how I remember meeting him makes no sense. Is just due to stress. It makes no sense for nightmares to breathe... Or walk. He said I wasn't allowed to forget.”

Dark continued to keep his voice calm and reassuring. “Whatever you have to tell me, I will believe you. Trust me, I know how nightmares can breathe and walk, I've met them before.” Because I am one, he neglected to mention.

Anna popped up and stood although still remaining under Deb's protective hand and stared at Dark, where she then screeched at him and growled.

She didn't think she could look away, now, really. Her breathing was gentling almost against her wishes, as he continued to speak. A chittering of unhappy noises rose from under her hand, and she flinched, as if expecting a blow. “I am plain. He said so, as well. But he also said that he loved watching me... Dance for him.” He hadn't meant a true dance, but the repeated shocks of agony driven randomly into her through the web he wove. “He just was bored...” He wanted her to trust him, but damn if it was easy to do. Still, she tried to gather her thoughts enough to explain. “He seemed so normal at first. No one else even saw when he acted...” The description failed her. All she saw was a jittering, flashing thing with too many sharp angles and equally too many teeth. “How do _you_ know him?” She repeated accusingly.

Something told him Deborah didn't mean "dance" in the traditional sense of the word. Typical Anti, fucking with the perceptions of innocent humans. He couldn't help but sigh at her question, and he sat back on his heels, habitually rotating his head to one side and then the next once as he thought how to answer. “It's... terribly complicated, the situation between Anti and I, but the simplest way to explain it is that we're... competitors. Rivals, you could say.”

Anna felt bad that she made Deb flinch and tried to comfort her by nuzzling her head into Deb's hand.

Remembering the poor bunny, at last, Deb scooped it up gently, eyes still numbly wide, and held it absently to her chest in her right hand. Her left hand, needing something to do, gripped tightly into the right wrist, and it was all she could do to try to speak the story that she'd been firmly telling herself was a lie for months... “It's impossible. He had- _he had fucking claws_ , and they worked like stingers, or hypodermic needles or whatever the hell, but there aren't any _marks_ where he used them, but I swear I could _see it move under the skin._ I just... It's always there. Like strings...” Her grip tightened throughout this, rounded nails digging deeper into the skin of her arm as she tried to make eye contact again, even as her mind shied away from it _._ “What... What could you possibly compete with him, _for?”_ At the last word, she winced as a slightly sharper nail managed to scrape into the flesh of her wrist. A few beads of blood rose to the surface, and she could almost imagine them blackened with whatever toxin Anti had in those claws...

“Ah, I remember him showing off those claws to me once, he was terribly smug about it, the bastard. As much as I dislike him, he's got a few clever tricks up his sleeves.” The human asked another difficult question and annoyance rose up in him. Why ask questions whose answers you wouldn't believe? “Well, we both hold positions of power, see, and- oh dear, do stop that, you're injuring yourself.” He reached out and pried her fingers off her wrist, swiping up the droplets of blood in the process. He brought his hand back to himself and reflexively licked the blood off his finger. He immediately froze at the taste of it. Oh. _Oh._ That all too familiar taste of rotten, sickly sweet static was ever so faint, but _there_ nonetheless. Anti wasn't done with her, was he? Oh, this was too good, this was such a _fantastic_ opportunity. A grin threatened to erupt on his face, but he smothered it down to a twitching smirk. He breathed out his next words in glee, quite despite himself. “Tell me **more**.”

She barely kept from whimpering when he dragged her death grip from her wrist. Her hand flexed like a claw for an instant, before falling limply into her lap as he released. “I don't even know _how,_ ” Deborah blurted, truthfully. “Half of what he did... It was just nightmares. That's why it _can't_ be real. And he babbled like a madman at the best of times. ‘The first little fly in my web. Of so many more.’ That's the bullshit he used to say. It didn't make sense, and neither did the nightmares, but he _knew_ what happened in them. And he just looked normal outside them but not when I slept and...” She closed her eyes, again, hand holding the bunny shaking. Her words hissed past her teeth, like a moan, “Everyone thought I left him, and I tried. I tried so many times, and somehow always came back... Until he said he no longer needed to keep me close. Then I could leave. He didn't stop me.” Her tone held both fear and a bone deep hurt that she loathed in herself. “He said that he could reach me anywhere, now...” Swallowing once more, she looked at the hand in her lamp, gaze tracing the veins as she recalled watching them bulge and almost writhe as things _dug_ into them.

“I know you must still be confused and hurting from the experience,” Dark soothed, “but I can help you make sense of it all. I am, of course, **experienced** in these matters. I know you're keen on dealing with this yourself, but I am **always** willing to provide further assistance should you desire it. In fact, your cooperation would enable me to get a leg up on the bastard.” The Aura swirled gently about them, still calming, still soothing.

Anna registered the words Dark said but didn't feel as uneasy as she normally would have. She just shifted a bit in Deb's hands at it, having a small growl in the back of her throat.

Deborah felt like she had cotton in her brain. Shaking her head, once, more to try to dislodge it than to say "no." Of course, this did nothing, and she only blinked up at Dark in confusion. Her voice was slowing, finally, as something lapped at her mind, telling her that there really wasn't a reason to panic, to struggle... And all she wanted to do was listen to Dark, right now. But first, something else gnawed at her, and she had to ask, haltingly, “What are... you?”

Dark smiled, slow and dangerous. “I'm a nightmare, too. One that lives, breathes, and seeks to tear down other nightmares in the battle for ultimate dominance. But don't worry, Miss Harris, if you cooperate with me, I **promise** you will not endure terrors in your sleep, not from me and not from Anti. No more fear, no more doubt, no more confusion. Only strength. All you have to do is **let me in**. It's as simple as that.”

Anna growled a tiny bit louder at the words "Let me in" and shifted a bit more in Deb's hand.

Her spine seemed to have molded back into the chair legs, and froze as his honey warm words created a fission between their meaning and the feeling they engendered. All Deborah wanted to do was listen and agree, to allow herself to be soothed by the first person to actually believe her. But there was something off in the wording. "...in your sleep." It left her uncomfortably aware that he'd just admitted to being a living nightmare... While she was _awake._ But exactly as fast as this thought bloomed, it was swallowed in a wash of soothing, stifling... Comfort? Was that the word? Her wary nature falling, the only way she had left to struggle was to reach out and snag the cuff of his sleeve with her free hand. She knew she had the knowledge and training to defend herself, but where had the will gone? Shivering as she felt like three syllables were echoing in her head, she tried to fathom what in the hell to do. Let him in? Trying to come to grips and failing, she wanted to make him happy... So all she could ask this time was, “H-how?”

Dark allowed Deborah to snag his sleeve and drag his arm closer. He lightly grasped her arm with that same hand and slid his hand down to gently grip hers, breaking her grip on his sleeve at the same time. Light as a feather, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and the back of her fingers, smiling at both her and the grumpy little rabbit she cradled still. “All you have to do right now is agree to let me help you, and agree to help me. All you have to do is say 'yes'.”

“But what... what...” She stumbled pitifully, still somehow able to feel humiliation at her failure to communicate. The cost. She needed to know the cost... Didn't she? He said he'd help her... No, no, he didn't quite say that. Thinking was getting harder, if anything. All he needed was one word from her... That would be much easier than struggling. His thumb felt shockingly cold against her skin, and instinct had her turn her palm into his encompassing it like a handshake, trying to warm his cold skin. Whether her mind was still capable of reaction, her muscle memory was strong as ever, gripping tight as if greeting him, or sealing a deal... She once more looked into eyes that no longer looked to her like they had eyeliner around them, but instead had something bleeding out at the edges... One word was all he wanted... “...Yes.” Almost instantly it felt as if something took _notice_ of her word, something that glitched and sparked behind her mind, enraged at her betrayal. If anything, she clung tighter to Dark's hand.

Anna squeaked in concerned and stood on her back legs to look at Deb's face. She tried to tap her nose but on the first attempt accidently bapped her chin, in the second she was successful in booping her nose.

 _Dark's smile widened to a pointy grin as Deborah gripped his hand, and he gripped tighter in return. The moment she said 'yes', he had to keep down the dark chuckle that threatened to bubble up his throat._ “You won't regret this, I **promise**.” Some of the Aura that was surrounding them seeped into her spine and crawled up into her brain, and it swept through her head slowly, carefully, and Dark saw through the Aura the influence that Anti had left in her mind like filthy cobwebs and knotted strings, and he could already tell that Anti was _furious._ A sense of smug victory filled him as the Aura settled into the back of her head like a contented cat lazing about in a pool of sunshine. The heaviness of the Aura surrounding them eased up slowly, like a diver returning to the surface, and Dark stood up, pulling Deborah with him carefully by the grip on her hand and he settled his other hand on her shoulder to stabilize her until she came back to herself. “Just **relax** , Miss Harris, there's no rush here.”

As the aura eased up Anna got a bit grumpier at Dark. She growled at him and swatted at his hand on Deb's shoulder.

As she was pulled to her feet, her vision dipped as if she were drunk. Her head felt clogged and heavy. The moment Dark's hand settled on her shoulder, the confusion eased, and that foreign rage felt almost muffled by something content and calm. That same force spread through her limbs, making her stumble again, catching herself clumsily on her sleeping legs. Both buzzed in complaint at being forced to support weight as her blood flow became unrestricted. The bunny kept struggling and it was a wonder that she hadn't dropped it during all this time. The poor thing must be so scared... Her thoughts were so slow to take form, again, as if the content feeling were dragging at her limbs and brain, tempting it into torpor. But she couldn't just collapse like she wanted to. The adrenaline rush that had been sustaining her panic was gone. Washed out of her system like rag doll in the rinse cycle.

To her surprise, she didn't try to pull free of his grip, only nodding at his command to relax. Deborah's mind was at best a jumble, at worst a Gordion Knot, at the moment, but if anything was going to survive an all out panic attack, it was the professional instincts that she'd spent so long turning into her walls against the world. Still, her voice was shaky, at best, when she finally was able to voice the question she'd been unable to manage, before. “What... Does this deal entail? How do you want me to help you?” Normally she'd be horrified at not thinking about this, fully, before, but she just felt relaxed and content, safe finally... Idly, she noted that his hand didn't seem to have warmed. In a faint reflection of his earlier action, she rubbed her thumb along the base of his palm, trying to return some of the comfort he said he was giving her.

“What I want from you in this is to tell me everything you know about Anti, everything you experienced while in his presence. You may do so at your own pace, of course, I understand it was a terribly traumatic experience for you. Beyond that, well. We'll see how the glitch bitch plays the game.” He grinned and gently rubbed his thumb against the cloth covering her shoulder.

Anna climbed onto Deb's shoulder and then thumped her foot on Dark's hand while growling at him.

That was easier said than done. How long had it taken her to admit to the appointed therapist just how fucked in the head she was? But, oddly, for the first time she _wanted_ to be able to tell him, so she'd try... The title he gave Anti seemed worryingly appropriate, considering how he almost seemed to glitch _reality_ around him. But before she could say that, two things happened. First, Anna the bunny scrabbled up to her her shoulder, rapidly bapping her hind leg on his hand. It somewhat resembled a dog scratching at a flea in its ear, only missing the body entirely. She had no clue what it was doing. Second came the twofold reaction to the gentle rubbing of his thumb into her shoulder. Around his hand spread gooseflesh that on meeting the edge of the old scar suddenly flared white hot with pain, causing her arm to spasm so hard she was thankful the bunny had moved, or she'd be horrified to have possibly chucked it across the room. Gasping, she tried to pull his hand from her shoulder as if it were the cause of the burning pain.

Dark raised his eyebrows, surprised at the reaction. He allowed Deborah to remove his hand and picked up the grumpy bunny on her shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you want to visit Dr. Iplier?” He deposited the bunny in a large pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. The Aura cat inside Deborah's brain stirred, blinking at the thrumming cobwebs of Anti's influence.

Anna squirmed around for a bit trying to get out, then screeched in distress at being stuck.

Something malignant plucked from far away, vibrating her mind like a tightly keyed piano. She could almost imagine those strings snapping her in half as if the mechanism of a baby grand had failed. Disentangling from his other hand, she gripped the burning shoulder, suddenly wanting to shout apologies, as if that would help. The mark on her hip was slowly coming to life as well, but not anywhere near as painfully. “I don't know what-” she blinked as she pulled her hand away, a smear of red staining her palm. Looking at her sleeve, she saw more blood, and against her better judgement, quickly rolled up the sleeve of her blouse to reveal the scar. Except, it wasn't a scar anymore. Where it had been a puckered, white line of skin scraped from shoulder to a couple of inches above the elbow, it now looked ragged and _fresh._ “No, no, no. This isn't... This doesn't make sense.” The only other person there, she looked at Dark as if he had the answer, cupping her hand tightly over the fresh wound.

Part of him was inclined to press his mouth to the wound and suck up the blood, but he wasn't particularly inclined to taste Anti's favor in this capacity, and engaging in intimate affairs with this particular employee would be unwise at this stage. Furthermore, she was bleeding quite profusely for reasons he could only guess at, so the most logical course of action here was to guide her to Dr. Iplier's office. “Ah- let's get you to Dr. Iplier's clinic, posthaste.” Dark turned to her side, placed a hand on the small of her back, and escorted her quickly to the doctor's clinic.

Nodding quietly, Deborah let herself be led out of the office, down a set of nearby stairs, and through the halls of the first floor, past the I.T. Department, to the small office of Dr. Iplier.

Having noticed no reaction to her screeching, Anna gave up for the time being and just curled up and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you couldn't tell, i have dark and anti in a hatemance, it's the only acceptable dynamic between the two of them for me lmao  
> the braincat's name is khoshekh, i couldn't not name it
> 
> also casual reference to my bby anne dearhart from 8 coffee 2 sleep. i love her so much


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark enlists Dr. Iplier's help to stitch up Deborah, and he finally extracts that information out of her. Deborah, on the other hand, is Not Okay and continues to have Olympic-level abilities of denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're done! this was a lot of fun to do ^_^ if anything wasn't clear, let me know and i'll be happy to explain! hit me up at my tumblr below for more thoughts about the boyos :D
> 
> dark: me (https://silverpracticality.tumblr.com/)  
> deb, the jims: (http://akatriel-rowanborn.tumblr.com/)  
> annabun: (https://fabulousshitposting.tumblr.com/)  
> the long-suffering doc: anonymous friendo who played grace in the first chapter

Dark opened the door to the doctor's office with his other hand, calling out as he did so. “Are you in, Doctor? We have an... **interesting** situation on our hands.”

The doctor looked up from some paperwork. “Do we?” Interesting is good! Everything he'd been dealing with today had been very, very boring.

Deborah was feeling woozy by the time she stepped into the doctor's office, her pants leg starting to cling to her hip, where the old scar there seemed to have also opened. Her fingers dug into the one on her arm, as she surveyed the room. A few beds, chairs, a wall with cabinets and a sink, the usual supplies and some more she thought unlikely to be needed any time soon. ...Were those pruning shears?

“Set to stitching up Miss Harris, and I will explain in the meantime.” He helped her into the patient's chair and began to explain. “She seems to have acquired fresh wounds with no discernible cause, except that they appeared shortly after I placed my hand near the location they occurred. Furthermore, I have reason to believe that Anti has begun a new project, and Miss Harris is one of his victims.”

Still looking at what she was pretty sure were pruning shears, Deborah said, absently, “The wounds used to be closed... For over seven months, now, really. They're old scars.”

He knew better than to drag his feet when Dark wanted something, so the doctor immediately went into bustle mode, gathering tools and putting on his best Doctor Face. “Oh, so it wasn't you, then.” There was not even a hint of judgment- or of joking- in his voice. This was just a point he felt worth some clarification.

Having heard a new person's voice, Anna started squeaking loudly again.

Dark seemed to suddenly remember that the little rabbit was in his pocket. “Ah, yes, that's right. I nearly forgot.” Dark plucked the rabbit from his pocket and walked over to the nearest flat surface to set it on. The rabbit fell through a tiny black circle into the void and then out of it again onto the desk of one of the Googles. He turned back towards the doctor. “No, it wasn't; I don't make a habit of stabbing my employees without provocation.” A short pause. “That's Wilford's style.”

Anna was spooked and looked around scared. She hopped behind the computer monitor, and curled up, hiding her face under her front legs.

At the sudden sound of high pitched squeaking coming from her boss's manboob, Deb finally tore her gaze from the random and increasingly terrifying supplies she was starting to notice in Dr. Iplier's office, just in time to see Dark toss a helpless bunny through some sort of... hatch?... in the table??? Stumbling to her feet in shock, Deborah sputtered, “What did you just do?!” Her legs threatened to give out from underneath at the sudden movement.

“Please sit back down.” Dr. Iplier could be stern when he wanted to be! And when the laceration he was just about to run a syringe of sterile water through decides to get up and start yelling indignantly instead of staying put, that's one of those times.

Doctor's offices were places of odd and terrible disinfectant scents power, that made grown-ass men cower at open backed plastic shirts and equally grown-ass Deborah sit obediently back down, wide eyes staring at the clear desktop. Probably not the brightest question, but she still muttered, “But... the bunny just???”

As Anna teleported and landed in the Google's workshop, she was longer a bunny upon landing in the workshop. Now she was back to her 'normal self'. But something twitched on her head, a pair of long floppy bun ears. Realizing she was human again, she panicked and tried to hop of the table. Although she didn't realize that when she had grown back into a human, wires had tangled on her. When she hopped off the computer monitor, keyboard, mouse, and a number of gadgets came tumbling down with as she faceplanted on the ground. This resulted her becoming even more tangled in wires. Still having bunny instincts, she hid under the table, avoiding the big scary noises _._

“The rabbit is fine, Miss Harris. It has ways of getting around,” Dark said flatly. There was a muffled crash from down the hall, and Dark steadfastly ignored it. “Just let the Doctor do his job.”

“I... But... Okay.” _Eloquently put,_ she thought, staring back and forth between the table top and the hallway from whence the crashing came from. It... Was far too small... And couldn't have been moved that fast, out of sight... Right? It was just in... A drawer? Hopefully? Maybe?

“I have news for you,” Iplier intoned.

Tearing her gaze away from the table with varying degrees of success, Deborah turned to stare at the shiny, round, mirrored whateverthefuck was on Dr. Iplier's brow, “News?” _ELOQUENCE LEVELS RISING._

Dark sighed quietly to himself, having a feeling he knew exactly what "news" the doctor was about to deliver. Please don't let the doctor mentally scar another one for life...

“I'm sorry to have to say this. There really is no easy way.” He said this cheerfully, while brandishing a threaded suture needle. “Your ex-boyfriend is probably _the_ worst I've ever seen. He's really just terrible.”

Deborah blinks four times before she decides that, yes, he did just say something he couldn't have possibly known anything about. She hadn't mentioned... Him... Directly to the doctor whatsoever. “Yes. Wait. How the hell?”

“Well, I wouldn't call giving you huge lacerations _again_ just for talking to Darkiplier ideal significant other behavior, right?” He chuckles amiably and picks up another syringe, this one with a needle attached. “Now hold still, all right?”

“No. I wouldn't. But, how did you _know,_ about- wait, what do you mean he gave them to me? How would-” Logic centers dying a painful death, she looked at Dark as if he might make a lick of fucking sense.

Dark stayed quiet as Dr. Iplier rambled, musing over this new information; the man had a strange tendency towards psychic intuition regarding misfortune, and it was proving extremely useful. Anti was her ex-boyfriend, hmm? It was probably the best way for him to do whatever the hell he trying to do, if it took a long period of time. At the comment regarding "significant other behavior", Dark had to hold back a snicker, thinking about all the times Anti would carve deep grooves into his flesh with his teeth and claws every time they fucked. When Deborah looked to him in confusion, he just shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “What can I say? He hates me. It's the whole "living nightmare rivalry" thing, you know.”

Logic gave a valiant effort to rise to the surface, struggling to come to grips with... Everything (the bunny went through a table!!!). “How in the hell could he open up scars he made fucking _months_ ago when I tried-” she swallowed, stopping the sentence as she tried very hard not to look at that needle.

“That's the thing about living nightmares like myself; we have the ability to defy reason with our power. Anti, it seems, has the ability to affect your body at great distances, merely by planting his influence inside of you.”

Okay. He's still a bit melodramatic... Still, if she could just find one thing that made sense, surely, she could... Do something. Maybe. Anything. Eh... Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and just muttered to herself, “I just want to go home and pretend this never happened...”

“Not while you're bleeding everywhere, you don't!” While the two of them had been talking, Iplier had been spreading Betadine on the skin around the wound. Now, he finally stuck the needle in, not quite thinking to warn her. Assuming Deborah didn't jerk around, it would most likely just feel like a momentary sting followed by nothing at all around that spot. If she did, it might be a little more unpleasant.

Deborah couldn't help but tense at the first stab of the needle, more from the faint prickle of memory of the _first_ time she'd had one of those curved needles sliding through her skin, the odd tugging sensation as it was looped through the muscle tissue, pink and grained with red, then back out, into the opposite side of the skin, and out. The sharp yank was the more painful part, and she hissed each time, finally feeling like she was waking up, at least. Not that she liked what she woke up to... “What is all this, anyway? Who are you people?”

Right, he hadn’t introduced himself, had he? How rude of him! “Oh, I'm sorry! I'm Doctor Iplier!”

Deborah blinked another few times, decided he wasn't entirely a danger at the moment. “Nice to meet you...” She turned back to Dark, beseechingly.

Dark sighed wearily. “Do you want the long answer or the short one?”

She pointed sardonically at the needle plunging in and out of her flesh. “I have been told not to go anywhere.”

Dark sighed again. “You have seen many men in here with very nearly the same face as Dr. Iplier and I, yes? We are all doppelgangers of an internet celebrity, brought into being by a combination of the concentrated attention of just over 19 million souls and the creative mind of aforementioned celebrity. Don't ask us how this works because we don't know either. Anti is a similar being, except he is based off of an entirely different human than the one we are. As for what this is? Well.” Dark smirked _._ “We have to fund our interests somehow, don't we?”

“...Okay. And I'm Beyonce's long lost, evil twin.” The pain was dragging sarcastic annoyance to the surface faster than a bad shark horror movie. “So it's not nepotism, but _doppelgangers_.”

“I'm sorry to say this, sir, but I think she might also be experiencing delusions.” He said this in a low voice, but made no other attempt to keep Deborah from hearing.

“Well, it's certainly a possibility, considering how steeped in denial she is,” he said in an equally low voice. He then raised an eyebrow, and began to speak in a normal voice. “Do you **honestly** think I'd allow myself to be named "Dark Iplier" if I had any fucking say in it at all? No. It's incredibly stupid and immature, and I wish the masses would condescend to name me something even **remotely** dignified. The I.T. department is named **Googleplier** for fuck's sake. So uncreative.” Dark brought one hand up to rub at his temple.

“You know, you can change your name the moment you turn 18...” She winced at another tug, not looking convinced.

The doctor visibly winced at the backtalk.

“Did- did you hear **any** of what I was saying? That's not how it **works** for us. We **aren't** standard humans. Our names do not change unless that damned human and his fans deign to change it! I have existed in physicality for very nearly 5 years, and I have held this form you see for just over a year! The doctor here has existed for three! By all accounts we should not exist! And yet here we are!”

Iplier's eyes darted back and forth, trying to assess whether it was safe to start tying off yet or whether shit was about to happen that would mess it up.

“So a doctor with a license from a Cracker Jack box is stitching me up while my child boss throws a temper tantrum? What kind of bullshit is this?”

“Hey!” the doctor interjected indignantly.

The color started seeping out of the room and the light dimmed. Dark's voice was low and furious. “I understand why you say such ludicrous things, but you **really** don't understand the situation you're in. Do you have **any idea** what it's like to have your existence entirely rewritten, both present **and** past, without your **consent**? It is positively **excruciating**. And do you know what I'm capable of? I can throw you into the void, and I ought to, for such impertinence! It is a place of **nothing**. Your sanity would survive barely half an hour in there. Now, with all that said, **do you want to repeat that statement?** ”

“No, but I do know what it's like to be forced to break into a screaming fragment of myself night after god damned night, feel like my veins _itch_ when he's feeling playful, feel like every movement I make tears my body to pieces, and I spent two _fucking years_ telling myself it isn't real just so you could put on an angry light show and fucking toss a rabbit through a black hole!” She was panting, and the chair felt slick with the blood from her hip, now, but she almost wished she could lunge forward and tear into the male Elvira before her.

Iplier set down the needle. He wasn't finished yet, but his hands were very clearly shaking far too much to try tying the stitches off. He didn't make a move to leave, though. He didn't dare. He hadn't finished what Dark had told him to do.

Dark's spine was very straight, and his hands clenched tightly behind his back. A hole to the void opened slowly behind him, expanding just wider and just taller than the breadth and height of Dark himself. _His voice was calmer, though no less dangerous._ “Do you think that's supposed to make me feel **sorry** for you? Clearly by your disrespect, you have no respect for my **authority** in this place, but don't worry, I'll be sure to **change** that very soon.” The Aura cat lounging in Deborah's brain stirred then, standing and stretching, nosing at it's surroundings. “I'd throw you into the void right now, but you'd die before you'd learn your lesson, and you're far too valuable as a **chess piece** in the game between Anti and I. That's all you are; no more, no less.”

Stupidly, she gripped the chair arms, once again dragging herself up, since the doctor had released her, meeting eyes so far beyond human they probably had tea with Cthulhu on Tuesdays. Her voice was ragged, and every inch of her trembled with primordial fear that hadn't been able to creep into her fucking brain, “I'm not trying for a pity party, damn it. I'm trying to _understand._ This makes no sense, and I already made some sort of fucking deal with you so I want to figure out what that means. Hell's _bells_ , what is this even about?”

“I'm sorry.” It's the usual "you're dying" tone, but a lot more quavery. “He's going to destroy you.”

Dark tilted his head, and the portal to the void began to close. “This is about power. This is about a power struggle between Anti and I. We are rivals, him and I. You are one of **his** puppets. I have you in **my** pocket. Therefore, you are a way for me to gain information about him and his plans, and subsequently ruin them. I do not know how I could **possibly** make this any simpler.” The open nothingness is very nearly gone, but a thin sliver stays open. The light very slowly starts to come back. “Although you can be exceedingly disrespectful, I **can** , however, respect your stubborn, foolish bravery in the face of oblivion.” A smirk spread across his face _._ “You may well survive the inevitable tug-o-war for your body and soul.”

Her arms crossed, needle dangling, as she balanced her weight on both legs to keep from collapsing. “Charitable. Especially since I have been trying to be a damn good employee all this time. I specifically joined this business, as a glorified _secretary,_ to you. And I'm good at my jobs. So just tell me _how_ I can give you this information and I'll enjoy watching Anti _squirm_ for once.”

He should really finish up. He should. But with even the merest sliver of That Place in his clinic it's all he can do to stay on his feet, and that requires taking several steps backward and pressing his back against the wall. If- if it comes for him, he'll see it coming at least, for all the good it will do. He doesn't notice it himself, but he's audibly whimpering.

Dark stepped forward and the sliver of the void was gone in the same movement. “Well, I **was** going to wait until tomorrow to extract the information from you out of respect for your mental state, but considering you have enough of your wits about you to snark at me, I may as well do it today. But first, you're **still** bleeding, and from the hip as well, aren't you? I'll let the good Doctor finish his work before I do so.” Dark turned toward the terrified doctor. “I'm terribly sorry you got caught up in the middle of this,  Dr. Iplier; you've been performing so well as of late. Are you able to continue, or would it be easier if I stepped outside for a moment?”

“I- I can finish. I was most of the way done already, haha.” The small nervous laugh and the eyes still darting around as if looking for an escape route banish any notion that Iplier could reasonably be called "okay", but he _is_ visibly steadier _._ “Thank you. Er, Ms. Harris, if you'd sit back down, please?”

Before Deborah could think of a suitable reply to what obviously screamed "I am threatening you, because I'm pissed," Dark had turned away to speak to the Doctor, and- oh shit. No. No, no, no. She knew that look. That fucking humiliating, terrified of speaking out of turn, wishing you could cringe right out of time, look. Without conscious thought she turned, reaching a useless hand out towards him, knowing immediately how painfully worthless a gesture that was. She remembered the mixture of shame and even fear it had caused her to think of anyone reaching out, and damn... “Doctor, I'm sorry...” She flinched back at her own words, feeling cruel and useless. Deciding to just shut the hell up, she returned to her spot, ignoring the sticky mess her own blood left. Not like she wasn't used to that. The worst part was the shame of hurting someone already breaking for no reason warred just as much with a reflected hatred for that weakness seen in another.

For a moment Iplier just stared at the offered hand as if it might bite, but then she backed down and just took her seat. It looked like she was willing to pretend that didn’t just happen, which was a profound relief. “All right! I just need to finish tying this off, I don’t think the other one will need stitches, I’ll just get them both bandaged up and then you can both be on your way!” _And I won’t have to be in the middle of whatever Dark’s up to this time!_ his expression practically screamed.

Deb nodded mutely, eyes turned to the floor, where a few drops of her blood had landed. Dried to a sticky, crisp brown, they at least let her ignore her reflection in the tiles. A mixture of pity and distaste was never pleasant to admit to.

The color returned to the world in a smooth, rapid transition, as well as the light. Dark took a couple steps back and straightened his suit jacket, quietly observing their behavior. The metaphorical Aura cat in Deborah's brain batted at the cobwebs and gnawed on the knotted strings of Anti's influence, somewhat impatient to get started.

The rest of the procedure was brief, as promised, though the awkward silence probably made it seem longer. The stitches were tied off with a practiced knot, then a gauze pad was taped over the whole thing to keep dirt out and any oozing in. The hip wound, being smaller and shallower, he just cleaned up a bit and then taped on another gauze pad. “And that should be it! Unless he opens them back up. Which _is_ something he’d do. But for now we’re done!”

Deb flinched at the tone that sounded forced, even to her ears. “Thank you, very much, Doctor.” She made sure to use the title, as close to an awkward apology as she could get for her earlier outburst. If she were perfectly honest with herself, pride was the reason she didn't try to push an apology further than that, not just the worry that she'd upset him more.

“It's what I'm here for!” That one had a little more genuineness to it, but the effect was ruined when he turned with an _extremely_ forced smile to Dark. “That _was_ everything you wanted, right?”

“It was, thank you. I'll be sure to call upon you again if Anti decides to throw another temper tantrum.” He stepped forward and held his hand out to Deborah. “If you would come with me, we can get started on the information exchange, although I would advise **against** snarking at me any further; it would make the experience that much less pleasant and I may well decide to throw you into the void for a few minutes anyway.”

Having been about to rise, Deb eyed the hand warily, hairs raising along the back of her neck as she did. But on glancing at the obviously still stressed Doctor, Deborah decided the best thing that she could do for him was to not cause anymore undue mental strain on the poor man. Feeling awkward as hell offering her hand like some broad from a century previous, she gripped Dark's hand tightly, saying in as calm a voice as she could muster, “I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to see Anti squirm, sir. Bloodloss and stress and disappearing rabbits won't change that any time soon.” She'd made a deal. The consequences were a mystery, but if she could get anything out of this, revenge was high on the list.

The blood on Deborah's hand was still sticky as he hoisted her to her feet, and mostly without thinking about it, he stepped forward and began to lick the blood off of her hand, his fangs in full view. He noted that this blood was very much concentrated with Anti's distinctive flavor. He released her hand and sighed contentedly. “As if we needed any further proof, the taste of her blood proved without a doubt that Anti was **definitely** behind that little bleeding stunt. Now, Miss Harris, all I need for you to do is open up your memories of Anti to me in order to begin the information exchange, and I will do the rest of the work.” The Aura inside her head swirled excitedly, as if to emphasize Dark's words. “Are you ready?”

Iplier showed no sign of surprise at this behavior, because he really wasn’t at all. He was just relieved to get to go back to his desk.

It was too late by the time she realized she'd offered the hand that had been clamping the flow of blood, before, and therefore looked like a Lady Gaga gown. Dark had already grasped it, dragging her up from her seat without a hint of disgust. In fact, disgust was the opposite of how she'd describe the face he made when he _MCFUCKIN LICKED HER HAND._ Her first instinct to rip his tongue out with her nails, having a pretty good angle to do so with her other hand- her second instinct was to forget all of that and just sag a bit, breathing slightly rougher than before, trying to remember what she wanted to do with that tongue that slid languidly across her skin, cleaning the wetter patches of gore like a cat grooming fur. The sight of fangs so close to her skin made her both want to cringe away... And reach closer to them, as if to test their sharpness... And then it was over as simply as that, her mental state stuttering in confusion as he drawled about the flavour. Oh. That was nice. He seemed to enjoy it... Wait. Just what was her brain- "Are you ready?" Something in her mind seemed to dance and pounce excitedly along the strands that dug into her brain like a web of wires. There really was no answer to give now, but what he wanted... “Yes, sir...”

“Excellent.” Dark stepped closer and placed one hand on the side of her head (to keep her looking at him), the thumb on her temple, and the other on her shoulder (to keep her upright). The Aura begin prowling around her brain, dredging up old memories related to Anti starting at the very beginning. Dark drank in the information, keeping an eye on both how the cobwebs and strings reacted and also watched Deborah's expression for intense distress.

Deborah shuffled slightly, vaguely recalling to be uncomfortable with such lack of personal space. That ended just about when his eyes began boring into her own, and she forgot every thought except basic functions, listening, and finding exactly what the man in front of her wanted most to know. It was like tracing the edge of a spiderweb, one that quite gladly reached back. It was terrifying to near these memories, waiting so patiently to ensnare all over again. It was worse to imagine what could wait in the center. Still, he wanted to know. She had every reason left to her to give it to him. And so she plunged along trails of clinging memories, hungrily dragging her deeper into segments and strands, each twisting and forking into more and more geometries not dissimilar to neurons flashing in the depths of the brain.

It started out tamely. A charming smile, a playful dance and game, hungry kisses that bruised and devoured... Embarrassment fluttered upwards, but still she followed the trail deeper. He'd been so good at making himself seem the most necessary thing in her life, until the pain began to redden the webbing... And then came the fractured trails that seem to run parallel to each other, over and through each other. One seemed solid and simple, even comforting, while the other digging into it flickered with impossible dreams. She tried not to "step" on those. But it became harder to avoid the deeper she moved. Soon every strand vibrated with memory and nightmare and her eyes screamed what her lips failed to, only muttering over and over, He's not here, anymore. “Not here, not here...” But her eyes continued to twitch, desperate to look away in case that predatory grin, those light claws flashing... But she couldn't. She moved further into the twisted knot of dream and reality that the memories became.

There was still a ways yet to spiral inwards, but Deborah was growing increasingly distressed. He pressed a little further, as payback for her snark, and then the Aura cat settled, returning to the back of her mind to curl up. There was always another day to finish this, another day to torment her and drag information out of her. He withdrew his touch from her and stepped back. “That's enough for now, we can continue another day. Shall I escort you back to your desk?”

Being torn free from the memory web felt like something was trying to snatch her back. By the time she could even blink, Deborah was nearly faceplanting from the effort to stand. Even cleaning up her god awful bloody clothes seemed too much, and hey, here he wanted her to go back to her desk. Wonderful. Nodding numbly, she stumbled over to the sink, yanking the curtain closed to at least scrape some of it off her skin, barely even able to give a shit anymore. Her thoughts weren't even fully settled back into her skull, it felt, and she just stumbled back out with the beginnings of a migraine to end all desire to live. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

Dark noted her muddled thoughts and blank stare, and decided that perhaps a carrot was necessary to oppose the stick he was currently providing. He didn't want his most valuable source of information at this juncture to go mad, now did he? “Since you have done well under the duress you have endured today, Miss Harris, you will be relaxing with the Jims until you feel recovered enough to go back to work or your shift ends, whichever comes first. Follow me.” Dark exited Dr. Iplier's office and led Deborah the short walk to the Jims' office, glancing back occasionally to make sure she was still there.

He opened the door to Media and Research, took a right and entered the Jims' office. He addressed the gathered Jims at large. “Gentlemen, Miss Harris here has had a very long day, and I would very much appreciate it if you could keep her company until she's feeling more herself.”

Still barely registering what was being said to her, only locking onto Dark's voice and subtle shifts in movements to allow her to follow him down to... Media? She hadn't been around here, yet.

Feeling as if her head were swimming through the air, Deborah entered after Dark, gently closing the door through muscle memory alone. The next office merely said "Jim Jim" on the door, along with the suite number, and before she could wonder if they had hired two partners named James and just forgotten the "and," Dark had opened that door as well. Rows of desks lined the office, with whiteboards along the walls. Pictures made to look like windows gave it the kind of sad, office attempt at normalcy.

The men in the room gave no attempt at normalcy.

"Gentlemen," they all stopped whatever they were working on, even if that meant walking, leaving their feet precariously aloft, and alerted to Dark's presence like a bunch of curious dogs. At her name, dozens of the exact same chocolate brown eyes moved to her, as if trying to solve a very strenuous math problem. At first, she tried to step back, something about a room full of the _exact same person over a dozen times_ moving in such eerie, if stupid, coordination, making her hair stand up on end.

But then Dark evidently said the right thing (or maybe wrong, if the room full of suddenly saddened eyes were anything to go by,) because they all stood, or turned or wiggled oddly her way, and she found herself surrounded by a bunch of very worried men babbling to each other. And was it her imagination, or did they all call each other, "Jim?"

"Very stressed."

"Yes, Jim. Scared too! Back to you, Jim." She flinched a bit as this one pushed her gently towards a couch full of more... Jims? Jimuses? Jimi? The flinch only seemed to cause them near panic and she was suddenly being papped gently all over and though by all accounts she should be terrified out of her wits, instead found herself smiling at the strange antics. Oh no, they cute... To her surprise, she even coughed a laugh and papped one back, feeling like her entire mind was made of cotton candy and stars.

Another Jim looked her in the eyes, curiously, reminding her so much of a puppy when he tilted his head that she had to laugh, again, forgetting her exhausted panic, entirely.

Suddenly the curious Jim clapped and wiggled, "Hi, Khoshekh Kitty!" And again, she was being given head paps. Um. Okay. That was surprisingly sweet if weird.

A quietly baffled something in her mind seemed to shrug it off and enjoy the paps. Did she hear purring? Smiling like a crazy woman through the pile of equally crazy clones, she couldn't help but grin at her boss, suddenly quite happy with the whole situation.

Something like amusement played at Dark's lips. “It seems you're settling in well, so I'll leave you to it. Have a nice day, Miss Harris.” With that, he exited the room. Once he turned into the main hall outside Media and Research, he entered the void through a black portal that closed behind him.

Dark exited the void in Dr. Iplier's office, behind the doctor sitting in his chair. The portal closed as he stepped onto the tile, and with another step Dark was pushing his fingers into the doctor's hair, tilting the head back slightly as Dark bent down to purr into his ear. “I must commend you for your **bravery** this afternoon, doctor.”

Iplier had been absorbed not so much in doing the interrupted paperwork as in staring at it while wondering what the hell he was doing with his life. It was a _fascinating_ question that occupied his mind so effectively that he didn’t even notice Dark’s presence until the man was already touching him. So he jumped, of course, with a frankly embarrassing squeaking noise. Fortunately, it seemed Dark wasn’t here to criticize. “I... thank you.” It sounded stupid to his own ears, but what else was there to say?

Dark scratched gently at the doctor's scalp. “I know you must've been so **frightened** during that whole ordeal, you were practically jumping at ghosts, you poor thing.” Dark pressed closer, so that his lips were practically brushing the shell of his ear. “I just thought that I'd give you a little reminder, dear doctor, that you don't need to worry; I won't break you unless you deserve to be **broken**.” With that, Dark released the doctor's hair and left the way he came, the portal closing quietly after him.

The doctor's heart was still pounding from the startlement of a moment ago. Maybe that was why even this gentlest of touches was making his skin crawl. It hadn't been ghosts, he knew, but he also knew that contradicting Dark was a very bad idea. If the boss wanted to act like Iplier had been spooked over nothing, well, that just meant he wouldn't have to talk about what had _actually_ frightened him. It was better. Definitely better.

But when Dark leaned in and murmured right into his ear about **breaking** he wanted to scream that he _wouldn't_ deserve it, he would be _good_ , but he couldn't seem to get the breath-

And then Dark was gone. He didn't even have to look behind him to know it, though he did so anyway- there was no mistaking that cold and choking aura. Iplier squeezed his eyes shut a moment to concentrate on breathing. Secure the airway first.

And _then_ , slowly and deliberately, he started to gather his things. What Nurse couldn't take care of he would handle in the goddamn morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a little context: doc reacts badly to the void because he asked dark one (1) time too casually about his broken-ass neck. dark didn't take too kindly to people prying too deeply (read: at all) into his personal affairs


End file.
